I'm Not The Only One
by Potato19
Summary: AU Fifth-Year. Harry Potter, unseen half-brother to the believed Boy-Who-Lived, Jack Potter; decides that enough is enough, and plans to step out of the shadows and announce himself in a big way. HHr.
1. People Get Ready

Disclaimer: I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Harry Potter Universe. Or that of the One Tree Hill Universe, for that matter. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

AN: Happy Valentine's Day, people. Or, to those other few: Happy Return-Of-The-Champion's-League!

Here's a present from me to you.

* * *

 **Chapter One: People Get Ready**

Sirius Black liked to make a big deal out of the little things in life.

There was, admittedly, very little excitement to be found in a trip to King's Cross Station on September first, but Sirius liked to spice things up, if only to annoy his best friend and her son. He sang songs the entire car ride to the station, told unfunny jokes, reminisced about his school days and passed on terrible advice.

Lily Evans had to put a hand on his thigh to stop his rambling, when she spotted the widening of her son's eyes at some of the things he was hearing. "Sirius, please, you're scaring him," she said gently.

Sirius looked at the boy through the rearview mirror. "Nonsense. Your boy's faced off against Voldemort; he can handle anything."

Lily grimaced at the sound of that. She _did not_ need to be reminded of her son's exploits during the Tri-Wizard Tournament the previous school year. Especially not so callously. Her glare was enough to get the Marauder to sober up.

His response was automatic. "I'm sorry. You're right." He glanced at the boy in the backseat once more, and was surprised to find him grinning. "Traitor," Sirius mouthed for him to see.

Harry Potter couldn't stop his snicker.

"Don't you start," Lily said, turning her head to look at her son. "You're only encouraging him."

"It's the last time I see you both until Christmas," Harry said, shifting slightly in the backseat of the car, so he could lean forward and talk to his mother properly. "Let us enjoy it while we can."

Lily rolled her eyes. "We're going to miss you too, Harry."

"What? No! That's not what I said."

"It's what _I_ heard," Sirius said, enjoying Harry's sudden discomfort a little too much. "Isn't that what he said, Lily?"

"Definitely."

"Guys," Harry whined, a small smile on his face. "Stop."

"Is he getting embarrassed?" Sirius asked. "I think I see a blush. Is he blushing?"

Harry dropped his head. "If you keep it up, I'm going to Apparate right out of here," he threatened.

"You'll be arrested."

"Let James try."

"Harry," Lily warned, her tone of voice forcing him to clamp his mouth shut. His mother normally didn't like it when he talked about his father, _at all_. It didn't matter if it was in a good light or not. Any talk about James Potter wasn't well-received by either Lily or Sirius.

Not that Harry blamed either of them. At the end of the day, Harry didn't like it when other people talked to him about James either. He _especially_ hated it when his idiot brother talked about James, and it was just about Jack Potter's favourite thing to do whenever Harry was around.

My dad _this_ , and my dad _that_.

"We're here!" Sirius suddenly exclaimed as he pulled the car over to the side of the road so he could maneuver into a parallel parking spot. As a Pureblood, it'd taken him a while to get used to the idea of driving a car, let alone _actually_ driving. Lily taught him the mechanics of it years ago, but it took him a further few months to get on the road and become the driving menace that Lily and Harry always knew he would be.

Sirius slipped into the parking spot in one slick move, and threw a fist into the air in triumph. "Am I a champion driver or what?" he asked.

"Sure you are," Lily said sarcastically, rolling her eyes once more. He could be such a child sometimes.

Sirius exaggerated a gasp. "I can't believe you're leaving me with her, Harry," he said dramatically. "What kind of wingman are you, Potter?"

"If I could _not_ go to school, you know I would," Harry said, as he opened his door and climbed out onto the sidewalk.

If he were being completely honest, he would have to admit that the London air was different to the air he breathed at home. It felt both heavier and lighter at the same time, simultaneously stifling and freeing.

Lily caught Harry's attention by putting an arm around his shoulders. "Penny for your thoughts?"

He managed a smile. "Is it too much to ask that we get back in the car and go home right now?"

She hugged him lightly. "It'll be fine, Harry," she said soothingly. "It's just another year."

"No it isn't," he countered. "You already saw what the _Daily Prophet_ is saying about Jack. They're bound to start on about me at some point."

"Ignore them then."

"But how?"

Lily turned to face her son. "You are Harry James Potter. You are kind and brave, caring, loving, and oh so very handsome." She smiled at the first sign of his blush. "What the world thinks of you doesn't matter; it _shouldn't_. It is what _you_ think of yourself that counts, okay?"

Harry nodded numbly, though he didn't tell her that her words weren't actually helping. He'd never _actually_ told her what it was really like for him at school, and he wasn't about to start. Not when it looked like she was just getting her life together again.

"Lily, are you starting with your lectures again?" Sirius asked, cutting into the profound moment between mother and son. "Leave the poor kid alone."

"He's not a kid, Sirius," Lily responded.

"And that _has_ to be the saddest thing I've ever heard." He shook his head. "Come on, let's head inside so we can save Neville from Madam Longbottom before she pinches his cheeks right off like the last time."

"Sirius."

"What, Lily? You saw what happened last year," he said, somewhat innocently. "The poor boy's been belittled his entire life. Would've been a Gryffindor if it weren't for the old bat."

"Sirius."

"I'm just telling the truth," he said, shrugging slightly.

"And, by all means, _do_ , but preferably in the privacy of Grimmauld Place. She _is_ a Wizengamot member, remember?"

"As am I."

Lily sighed. She could never truly understand the reason behind Sirius and Augusta Longbottom's strained relationship. It was something that neither Head of their families liked to talk about and Lily gave up questioning them both a very long time ago.

"Are you sure you have everything?" Lily asked her son as they started to walk towards the entrance to the Station. "I won't be sending you anything that you've forgotten like I did last year."

"I packed everything," he said, grumbling slightly.

She raised an eyebrow, hearing something different in his voice. "Everything?"

Harry risked a look at Sirius, and then visibly steeled himself for the conversation that was about to occur. " _Everything_ ," he repeated.

Lily brought them to a stop. "Harry, we talked about this," she said sternly. "We decided."

"No," he said automatically. " _You_ decided."

Lily blinked. "Harry?"

"I don't get it, Mum," he said. "You always tell me that you want the best for me; that you want me to be the best I can possibly be, so why won't you at least let me try?"

Lily sputtered. Where was all of _this_ coming from?

"So, yes, I packed _everything_ , and I'm going to _try_ because I think I deserve it. Just because I'm known as the _other_ Potter, doesn't mean that I actually have to be."

Lily was stunned, and it showed on her face. Clearly, her son had spent quite a while thinking about this. It was definitely something he felt strongly about, from the hard-set look of pure determination his face. He was decided.

Harry nodded once, and then turned and started to walk again, signifying the end of that topic of discussion. He needed to keep walking before his mother guilted him into giving up on his decision. He wouldn't put it past her; she'd done it before. She'd even written to Professor McGonagall about it once, and Harry'd ended up in detention _for no reason_ on the all important day.

Lily was eventually jolted into moving by Sirius' hand on the small of her back. He said no words as he guided her through the crowds filling the Station, following Harry. Sirius watched in mild amusement as the teenager made great effort not to look back at his mother.

"Did you know about this?" Lily whispered to Sirius, once she'd recovered from Harry's sudden declaration.

Sirius took a deep breath. "I bought him a new one."

Her eyes snapped towards him. "You did _what_?" she practically shrieked.

"He asked, Lily," he said simply. "He _never_ asks for anything. This is important to him and, after the debacle that was last year; how can you possibly say no?"

"He'll get hurt."

"Then he'll grow from it," Sirius said. "Don't you think he's good enough?"

"It doesn't matter," she whispered hotly. "We both know that, even if he is better; there's no way that - "

Sirius cut her off. "He already knows," he said gently. "Don't you think that the last fifteen years of his life have taught him more than enough about where he fits into the great big world that we've thrown him into?"

"I just want to protect him."

"I think you'll find that he's perfectly capable of taking care of himself."

Lily sighed. "But he's still a child," she said, contradicting her earlier statement. She knew she was being difficult, but any mother wanted her kid to stay a kid, even when he just _wasn't_.

"Who's desperate to be a man," he said. "You don't get to pick and choose, Lil. He's growing up, too fast, and you're going to have to accept it one of these days."

She looked at Sirius. "I don't like it."

"We're not asking you to," he replied softly. "But, if he doesn't try; he'll regret it. And, if you don't let him try, well, I think you'll regret it too."

"When did you get so wise?"

It would have been easy for Sirius to play off her question, even making a joke about it, but something felt serious about this moment. "I was forced to," he said carefully; "you know, when my once best friend decided that raising his son just wasn't for him."

Lily bristled, decidedly refusing to engage in a conversation that remotely involved James Potter.

"I'm going through," Harry called out from in front of them, and then disappeared through the pillar before either adult could even respond.

"He probably can't wait to see Luna," Sirius joked.

"Oh Sirius, we both know that he has a crush on a certain little redhead."

Sirius shook his head. "Potter men and their redheads," he grumbled.

Lily threw him a wistful look, but chose not to respond. If her son was lucky, he would get over his crush quickly. Potter men and redheads didn't work out, and the sooner he figured it out, the better.

They followed Harry through the pillar onto Platform 9 3/4, and Lily automatically smiled at the sight of the Hogwarts Express. As terrible as it was to be out in public in the Wizarding World, _even with Sirius_ , Lily couldn't mistake the feeling of magic in the air. It was wonderful, and definitely something that she missed.

"There he is," Sirius said, gesturing to a point ahead of them.

Lily's eyes followed his gesture and she spied her son standing with his two best friends, Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood. The trio were talking to Neville's grandmother, Augusta, and Luna's father, Xenophilius Lovegood.

"Just looking at Xeno gives me a headache," Sirius whispered, referring to the colour of Xenophilius' robes, and Lily couldn't contain her laughter.

"I quite like the colour," she whispered back, as they approached the group. "It brings out his eyes."

Sirius sniggered, absently dropping his chin onto her shoulder. "Do you think it would suit me?"

"I think you know just what I like for you to wear, Sirius Black," she said breathily, and Sirius _yelped_.

Lily laughed.

"I hate it when you do that," he said grumpily.

"Do what?" she asked innocently.

Sirius didn't get a chance to respond, because Neville and Luna were suddenly noticing and greeting the pair enthusiastically. Augusta less so, of course. And Xeno, well, he was as flighty as ever.

"Are you two ready for another year then?" Lily asked her son's two friends.

Luna nodded. "I do hope it will be less exciting than last year."

"You and me both," Harry commented, chancing a look around the platform to make sure that the very people he didn't want his mother to see weren't anywhere in sight. He was deeply protective of her; had been since he was old enough to understand just what Lily Evans had been forced to go through.

"It probably won't be," Neville said, somewhat darkly. "Especially not after what Jack's saying happened during the Final Task."

Harry practically shuddered, and all the adults shifted uncomfortably. The tale of Voldemort's return did cause panic in the Wizarding World but, with the Ministry of Magic refusing to acknowledge the Dark Lord's resurrection; many witches and wizards weren't preparing for the War that was sure to occur.

"Look," Sirius said to three teenagers. "This isn't something that you three need to be worrying about right now," he said seriously. "You just stay focused on school and enjoying your time together, okay? We'll take care of what needs to be taken care of, all right?" He waited for their collective nods. "Now, I think you better hop onto that train and find yourselves a compartment all for yourselves so you can plan all your awesome pranks."

"Sirius," Lily said, shaking her head.

All the Marauder did was wink at the trio.

Harry initiated the farewells, stepping forward to hug his mother, his godfather, and then his mother again. Neville received an awkward hug from his grandmother, while Luna was lifted off the ground by her father.

The group was just separating when _they_ arrived. Lily visibly tensed, and her two boys automatically stepped towards her, Harry and Sirius moving into position to shield her from whatever looks were sure to come their way.

It didn't take very long.

As soon as _they_ spotted them, expressions changed, and brows furrowed in obvious disdain.

"Take her home," Harry said to Sirius.

Sirius wasted no time in proceeding to lead Lily away from the new arrivals. No further words were exchanged, and Harry remained unmoving until his mother was safely off the platform and out of sight.

"Are you okay?" Neville asked Harry.

The raven-haired wizard shook his head. "Let's just get onto the train."

Luna gently tugged on his sleeve. "It looks like your father is trying to get your attention."

Harry forced himself not to turn his head to look in the direction of the other group. "Well, I've been trying to get his attention for years. Let's see how he likes it."

Luna giggled. "The nargles are going crazy around his head."

"I can only imagine."

Neville shook his head. "Where's your trunk, Harry?"

The wizard pat the pocket of his jeans. "Sirius shrunk it for me," he said. "I'll be able to expand it when we get to Hogsmeade. And Hedwig's already at Hogwarts, probably. Hopefully. She was being difficult this morning."

Luna started them walking, bouncing slightly with each step. "How did your Mum take the news?" she asked as they went.

"What news?" Neville asked.

"Harry's going to try out for the Quidditch team this year," Luna informed him.

Neville just stared at his best friend. "Are you _trying_ to have the entire school hate you?"

Harry shrugged. "Oh, don't be so dramatic, Neville," he said happily, patting his friend's shoulder somewhat condescendingly. "The Slytherins are going to _love_ me."

"Because you're going to make Jack's life a living nightmare?"

"Voldemort has nothing on me."

The three of them laughed to themselves as they climbed aboard the train. Harry helped Luna with her trunk and they found a compartment in the last carriage of the train; hopefully far enough away from the bane of Harry's existence.

"Do you know who your House's prefects are?" Neville asked Harry once the three of them were settled in their own compartment.

"Probably Granger," Harry said; "and maybe Jack. Or Weasley. Something tells me that Dumbledore might think that Jack has _too much_ on his plate already, with everything that's already going on in his pampered life."

Luna raised an eyebrow. Her friend was definitely more snarky this day of all days.

"What about Hufflepuff?" Harry asked Neville, ignoring Luna's curious look. He did not want to have to explain that his mother's reaction to the _other group_ bothered him in a way that he didn't fully understand.

"Hannah and Ernie, definitely," he answered. "Or maybe Justin, but he's more of a troublemaker, really."

"It should have been you," Harry said.

"It should have been you too," Neville returned.

Luna sighed dramatically. "Yes, yes, we know our lives are so terribly unfair and we just have to accept the unjust nature of living as we do," she said, sighing. "Tell me if Sirius and your mum are together yet."

Harry laughed lightly, and then he sighed. "Not yet, no," he said quietly. "She's not ready yet. At least that's what Sirius says. But he's patient, I guess. He says she's worth it."

"She is," Luna agreed.

Harry merely nodded, as his eyes drifted away from his friends to look out the window. He caught sight of several red heads bobbing as they moved as one along the platform. His eyes automatically searched for a particular redhead, and a small smile took place on his face.

Because of it, he missed the amused look exchanged between his two best friends. Apparently, he was totally predictable.

Harry's smile quickly turned into a scowl when he caught sight of his brother, Jack, moving into view. He was forced to look away when Jack and said certain redhead hugged and shared a chaste kiss.

 _Of course_.

When Harry did eventually look back out the window again, he watched the entire scene play out before him. James Potter pulled his son into a tight hug, before Jack was hugged by his own mother, and then his sister. _His family_.

It made Harry burn with anger and, ashamedly, jealousy. He hated himself for it because, truly, he _loved_ his life, and his _own_ family, but he couldn't help what he felt. At least, that was what Luna told him. He wasn't sure if he believed her though.

When the train started to move, Harry gave his friends his full attention. He'd missed them during the summer and he wasn't afraid to tell them. It was the type of relationship that they had. They talked about things in profound ways, and he sometimes thought that it was because they all came from somewhat _different_ family situations.

The first visitor to their compartment, of course, was Draco Malfoy. It was expected, really, because the Slytherin made a habit of visiting both Potter boys on the train to _and from_ school. The trio joked that Malfoy _had_ to have a crush on at least one of them. Or both, really. There was no other explanation.

"Oh, Potter, Potter, where's your other half?" Malfoy asked, entering the compartment without even bothering to knock. He was flanked by his trolls, Crabbe and Goyle, but Harry wasn't worried. In a duel, whether verbally or with wands; Harry would always come out on top.

Harry sighed, barely lifting his gaze. "Malfoy, please, I already have enough antagonists in my life, without having you to deal with as well."

The blond frowned. "Whatever. Where's your brother?"

"Do I look like I care?"

"So helpful, Potter."

"I'm glad you think so," Harry said. "Now, please can you leave? Your mere presence is sucking the good air right out of this room, and I'm struggling to breathe."

Malfoy huffed. He opened his mouth to say something else, probably something to do with his father; but Harry cut him off.

"Leave, Malfoy," he said through gritted teeth, his eyes flashing dangerously. "I'm _not_ Jack. _He's_ the one you have the problem with. Not me. You'd best remember that you don't want to _start_ any trouble with me."

And Malfoy _did_ remember. Where sometimes Jack fumbled with his wand and stumbled through his comebacks against the Slytherin; Harry _did not_. Harry Potter was a very different boy to Jack Potter, and the entire school was now going to know it.

Malfoy shook his head once, before he turned on his heel and ushered his goons out of the compartment, and then followed them out in silence.

Harry heaved a sigh.

"He definitely likes you," Luna said, laughing at Harry's exasperated facial expression.

Neville chuckled. "I'm sure that he would've liked to stay and keep talking to you," he teased. "Malfoy's spoilt for choice, isn't he?"

Harry shook his head. "I hate you guys."

"You love us," Luna said, giggling. "Don't deny it."

Harry couldn't fight off his grin, and it broke out on his face. "I really missed you both."

Luna moved from the seat opposite him and sat down right beside him, absently leaning her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes immediately and, within minutes, she was asleep.

Harry looked at Neville curiously.

"Something about a midnight expedition," he replied, shrugging slightly. "Xeno apparently wanted to get one last one in before Luna returned to school. It was unsuccessful, as you know."

"One day, they'll find something."

"Don't encourage them, Harry," he said, more forcefully than he first intended. "Look at her, she's exhausted, and Xeno is obsessed. We both know that it's unhealthy."

"What would you rather have him do, Nev?" Harry asked seriously. "If this is the way they deal with their grief, how can we judge them? There are worse ways, and you and I both know that."

Neville dropped his gaze, his mind automatically flying towards his own grandmother. The way she dealt with her grief was detrimental to the mentality of her grandson, and only Harry and Luna were what kept Neville from drowning in the mounting failure that he felt whenever he was reminded how much _less_ he was when compared to his father, Frank Longbottom.

"Are you going to nap as well?" Harry asked, changing the subject.

"We've barely been on this train an hour and we're already getting into the heavy stuff," he said, sounding slightly amused; "I think a nap will do us both some good."

Harry just about managed a smile. "'Night, Neville."

He chuckled, before he shifted to get comfortable, closed his eyes and promptly fell asleep.

Harry sat perfectly still as he listened to the steady breathing of his friends and watched the world pass him by. He felt slightly melancholy about the journey to Hogwarts. He _loved_ school, he did, but it was so stressful, and rather tiring. His brain had to be _on_ every second of the day, constantly on the look out for possible pranks and unseen attacks, from House enemies and from those who were supposed to be allies.

Harry also had his schoolwork to look forward to. It wasn't that he _liked_ working at school; he just liked _learning_. And, in magic, there was always plenty to learn. He _was_ Lily Evans' son, after all.

He didn't, for a second, think that he could ever beat Hermione Granger to first place in their year, but Harry truly gave her a run for her money. Even the Ravenclaw students didn't compare, and that really irked both the students and their Head of House, Professor Flitwick.

Harry, under his mother's tutelage, was already well ahead in the year's work, which was something he would never boast about. At Hogwarts, Harry was silent in class and in his House. He was a wallflower, watching, listening and not being seen. It was what he preferred, really.

Until now.

This year, things would be different.

This year, everyone would remember that Jack Potter was not the only one.

* * *

Harry hated the Sorting Feast. The food was fine, and he was even happy for the little first-year students starting their lives in this truly magical world, but none of it could make him forget that he _couldn't_ sit with his friends. It was against the rules on their first night.

Sometimes he hated that he was a Gryffindor, that Neville was a Hufflepuff and that Luna was a Ravenclaw. And, even if he'd taken up the Sorting Hat's offer of Slytherin during his own Sorting; he still would have been sitting without his friends... If they'd even ever become friends then.

It was difficult to consider, but it was all his mind would think about as he sat surrounded by his fellow Lions. They were chatting to one another over him and through him, ignoring him as they usually did whenever Jack was around. Or even when he wasn't.

To his left sat little Colin Creevey, who was not exactly _little_ anymore. Colin was probably Jack's biggest fan, and Jack _loved_ it.

Harry sighed, turning his attention to his right, where Hermione Granger was sitting, talking on and on about Merlin only knew what. To her right was Ronald Weasley, who was happily digging into the Feast, seemingly without a care in the world. And, opposite them, sat Jack Potter and Ginevra Weasley.

Without his say so, Harry's eyes lingered.

"Please can you pass the mashed potatoes?"

Harry blinked, his head turning. "Huh?"

Hermione Granger was looking at him curiously, clearly waiting for him to catch up. "The mashed potatoes, Potter; do you mind passing them over?"

He stared at her for a moment, before he jerked into motion, leaning to his left and lifting the bowl of mashed potatoes.

Hermione didn't smile when she took the bowl from him. "Thank you," she said flatly. Then, seemingly making a decision, she added: "I'd be careful if I were you."

"Hmm?"

Her eyes were kinder than he'd ever seen; not that he'd ever really _looked_ before. They were actually rather fascinating, a deep hazel brown in colour with flecks of amber, and maybe a touch of gold if one looked close enough. "You don't want to be caught staring."

His brow furrowed. "Staring at what?"

" _Who_ ," she said, her voice slightly raspy. "You do know that my redheaded friend over there has a boyfriend, right?"

He blinked back his panic. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said nervously.

"Don't worry," she said, sensing his unease. "It's not as if I'm going to tell anyone."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why wouldn't you tell anyone? I'd imagine that you and your friends would have a right laugh about all of this, wouldn't you?"

"You'd imagine wrong," Hermione eventually said.

Harry just stared at her.

"I'm not out to tease you," she admitted quietly; "though you don't seem to handle it all that well, to be perfectly honest." She sighed. "I just think that you need to be reminded that she has a boyfriend and, if he finds out that you've been staring the way that you do; it'll just get ugly. And I sure as hell don't want Ginny caught in the middle of all of that."

Harry couldn't remember a time when he'd heard her say so many words to him at any one time, and he found himself a little intimidated by how spectacularly calm she seemed. They _never_ talked. As long as she was friends with Harry's brother, then there was practically a wall between them. He knew next to nothing about her, even though he claimed to be a wallflower. All he'd learned, really, was that she was very academic-minded, and superbly loyal. Because, really, you had to be loyal to willingly deal with Jack Potter on a daily basis.

"It's as if you're looking for trouble," she said thoughtfully, absently dishing some mash onto her plate.

He eventually found his voice. "I'm not."

"Because, if you were, please let it be for more than just a girl," she said seriously. "If you're determined to break out of whatever box you believe you're in; by all means, _do it_. But do it for the right reasons."

Now, he definitely hadn't expected to hear her say _that_ to him. She was saying _things_. Truthfully, he didn't even think that anybody noticed.

She gave him a small smile, as if she were just catching herself having such a conversation with him. "Don't listen to me," she chastised herself. "I'm not making any sense."

"Yes you are." He kept his eyes on her, the image of who he thought she was shifting rather dramatically. She saw more than he gave her credit for. Of course she had to be more than just Jack Potter's best friend; the same way that he was so much more than Jack Potter's brother.

Hermione felt a little uncomfortable under his heated gaze. "Umm," she sounded. "Just remember what I said."

"Exactly what am I remembering?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Ginny is very important to me," she added, ignoring his attempt at humour. "I won't have you use her as some way to get back at your brother."

Harry blinked. "I wouldn't."

"I know," she agreed. "But you understand why I have to say it, don't you?"

He nodded.

"You'll be careful then?"

He nodded again. "I will."

"Good." She leaned back, making as if to turn away from him, but he spoke up before she could.

"Granger?"

She met his gaze once more; those hazel brown eyes holding him captive. "Hmm?"

"Why did you tell me all of this?"

She shrugged. "Why not?" And then she really was turning away, leaving Harry to mull over mysterious warnings and mashed potatoes.

He spared a quick glance at Jack and Ginny, before returning his attention to his food. It was as if his conversation with the girl to his right went entirely unnoticed, which wasn't a surprise. There was too much excitement in the air and, well, Harry Potter was invisible.

Harry finished with his supper quickly, and then stood up to leave. On his way out of the Great Hall, he stopped to ask the sixth-year female prefect, Emily Camp, for the password to Gryffindor Tower, and then he was on his way.

He waited in the corridor just outside the doors to the Great Hall for almost five minutes before he was joined by Neville, and, two minutes after, Luna as well.

"I was right," Neville said, as they started on their way towards the Ravenclaw dormitories. "Our prefects are Ernie and Hannah."

"Padma and Michael," Luna informed them.

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "I've got Granger and Weasley," he said. "Which means that I'm going to have to be extra careful this year. My guess is that Granger will take her job seriously."

"Padma as well," Luna said.

Neville didn't even bother to mention his own prefects. They didn't matter, not really.

"Maybe we should refrain from meeting after curfew this week," Harry suggested. "We'll learn their schedules and then plan around that."

Luna nodded her agreement. "I'll have you know that I have a ton of ideas for the year."

"So you said."

She grinned mischievously as they came to a stop at the portrait leading into the Ravenclaw Common Room. "I better get inside before the little ones arrive." She quickly hugged them both, before she hurriedly responded to the proposed riddle and disappeared from sight.

Neville looked at Harry. "Has she told _you_ any of her plans?"

He shook his head as he started them walking again. "She's a sinister little thing, that one."

Neville didn't respond immediately. "Are you _seriously_ considering trying out for the Quidditch team?" he asked, finally voicing the question that'd probably been playing in his mind all day.

Harry sighed. "To be perfectly honest, Nev, I haven't yet decided," he confessed. "It seems like it'd just add so much stress to my already jam-packed O.W.L. year, and my mum's all miffed about it. Plus, you look like you might even start crying."

"No I don't."

Harry chuckled. "I'll see how I feel," he said. "It'll probably depend on how much of a git Jack is this week."

Neville shook his head. "You just want to turn this entire school on its head, don't you?"

Harry grinned in response. "Wouldn't it be fun?"

"I think that you and I have vastly different definitions of the word 'fun,'" he said, rolling his eyes. "You're just playing with fire, Harry."

"Maybe I am," he said, sighing. "But aren't you tired of being invisible? I know I am."

"Is this about Voldemort?"

"No," he replied quickly. "This is to do with _me_."

"Not Jack? Not your father? Not even your mum?"

Harry brought them to a stop. He always told his best friends the truth, and this time would be no different. They knew practically everything there was to know about him anyway. "I can't say that they aren't a factor - my mum especially - but this really is to do with me. I've spent a lot of time thinking about it."

"I can tell."

"Are you mad?"

Neville shook his head no. "A head's up would have been nice though," he said, shrugging slightly. "Because, the second you step out into the light; you're taking us with you."

"Will I have to drag you, or are you going to come willingly?"

They shared a laugh, and then continued on their way in silence. Once Harry dropped off Neville at the Hufflepuff dormitories, he practically sprinted to Gryffindor Tower. He arrived just before Ron and Hermione appeared with the newly Sorted First-Years. He was taken aback by how small they all looked, wide-eyed, excited and nervous. Had he also been that small in his first year?

Harry disappeared through the portrait hole, barely looked around the Common Room, and made his way up to the boys' fifth-year dormitory. Thankfully, it was empty. He quickly located his trunk, which was at the foot of his new bed, and he let out a relieved breath.

They'd been a time when his trunk didn't arrive, in his third year, and it was now always a struggle for Harry to leave his expanded trunk on the train for the House Elves to bring it up to the Castle. It wasn't that he didn't trust the House Elves; it was that he didn't trust his roommates.

Harry had learned that the trunk _ha_ _d_ arrived, but Jack and his friends had taken it _somewhere_. They'd managed to get it open somehow and gone through his things, ruining things, stealing things, and now Harry made sure to arrive early enough to make sure it was safe.

It also helped that his mother added her own protections to the trunk.

Harry kneeled down in front of his trunk, unlocked it and popped it open. _There it was_. His brand new broomstick. A broomstick that may or may not see the light of day, with the way things were going when it came to his mother and his friends.

Right now, it didn't matter what he decided when it came to the Quidditch tryouts. Whether he did or didn't was unimportant. If Harry truly did decide that it was time for him to stand up and get noticed, Quidditch would just be _a_ platform. One of many.

Because there were other ways.

And, being the son of Lily Evans, Harry Potter had thought of nearly every single one.

It was his time now, and people had better get ready.


	2. Born This Way

**Chapter Two: Born This Way**

There was something inherently _magical_ about Hogwarts Castle. It wasn't anything that could be seen or heard, but rather _felt_. It was one of Harry's favourite parts of being back at school. The Castle absolutely fascinated him.

As a result, Harry liked to take walks through the corridors. He preferred to do it when there weren't many students moving about, so he was usually out of bed after curfew, roaming the corridors and discovering new things. He was always a rebel at heart,  
even though he was still a diligent worker, a loyal friend _and_ a fierce protector. His mother always told him that he would have strived in _any_ House. He'd once asked her if she'd still love him if he were in Slytherin. Her response  
had been that her best friend had been a Slytherin, and that was all she said on the matter.

Harry sometimes wished he wasn't in Gryffindor, if only to rub his father the wrong way. He sometimes thought that James got too much satisfaction from having both his sons in the same House; in _his_ House.

He sometimes thought that, if his name had been called _after_ Jack's on the night of the Sorting, things would be different. Harry would have done what he could to be away from the brother who was hardwired to hate him from birth... Or, rather,  
from that fateful Hallowe'en night.

Owing to the fact that the students arrived at Hogwarts on a Friday, they had the entire weekend to acclimate themselves to life back in the Castle before classes started fresh on Monday morning. Harry, like many of the other students, truly appreciated  
the extra two days of no pertinent school work. As much as he was a hardworking student, he didn't particularly _like_ the idea of school. Sure, he liked his friends, some of his teachers and he probably also liked some subjects; but the idea  
of school - being tested on knowledge - just didn't sit right with him. He felt as if he were constantly being judged for how well he could remember information.

So he, Neville and Luna spent majority of Saturday holed up in the library, books spread out in front of them and a Silencing Charm around them. They gave off the appearance that they were reading ahead, but really they were discussing their upcoming  
year, and just how they were going wreck havoc on Hogwarts without anyone ever realising it was them.

They'd started their little band of misfits at the end of Neville and Harry's second year. After everything that happened with the Heir of Slytherin, the Chamber of Secrets and all the petrifications; the school needed _something_ to lift its spirits.  
Really, Harry just needed an excuse to have some fun. It'd taken significant coaxing to get Neville on board, but now there was no looking back.

They were selective, and they never targeted people who didn't deserve it. Their _pranks_ were usually light-hearted, designed to get a laugh instead of embarrassing and ridiculing. Nobody ever knew it was them. They'd even gone so far as to name  
themselves.

From the way that Jack continually boasted about the Marauders _and_ the way Sirius always puffed out his chest that bit more whenever the four-man - cough, three-man - group was mentioned; Harry decided that a variation on the name was needed. He'd  
searched through an endless amount of synonyms, even considering some antonyms, until he narrowed it down to three: Buccaneers, Filibusters and Mosstroopers.

Needless to say; it was Luna who eventually picked their name, when they'd finally made friends with her. Harry couldn't remember how the boys had come to discover their little blonde shadow, but Luna had to know that they wouldn't have ever turned her  
away.

And so they became the _Mosstroopers_. They always shared a little giggle whenever one of them said the word out loud.

"We're starting with Ravenclaw," Luna declared. "Some of my things are already missing."

Harry bristled. "It's been one night!"

She gently pat his forearm to calm him. "It wasn't anything important," she assured him. "Although I was rather fond of my yellow and green polkadot socks."

Harry huffed. "I thought that you said you were going to put trackers on your things?"

"I did," she said, her smile somewhat feral. "Which is why we're starting in Ravenclaw."

Neville chuckled. "Have I ever told you that I'm deathly afraid of you?"

She was back to playing innocent. "Why, Mr Longbottom, whatever do you mean?"

They shared a laugh, before they returned to their planning. Ravenclaws first, and then the Slytherins. When they'd first _really_ started behind-the-scenes, their work was assumed to be that of the Weasley twins and, of course, being who they are,  
the twins perpetuated it; even _embraced_ it.

That was, of course, until they were on the receiving end of a particularly funny prank, involving Mariachi music following them around all day, including when they were in class. Needless to say, the twins didn't try to take credit for the Mosstroopers'  
work ever again.

When it was dinner time, they packed up their things, dropped the Silencing Charm, returned the prop books to their shelves and made their way to the Great Hall. During the school year, Harry very rarely sat at the Gryffindor table for meals. He rather  
sat at either the Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw tables with his friends, depending on what Neville or Luna were feeling.

Once, they'd even flipped a coin.

The other Houses didn't really have a problem with it, though that might have been because Harry Potter was invisible. He wondered what it would be like if that ever changed.

 _When_ that changed.

Tonight, they decided on the Hufflepuff table. The three of them usually sat on one side of the table, Luna between the boys; their protectiveness always kicking into gear whenever they were in big crowds. They had routines, and they very rarely did things  
apart, save for studying.

It was one thing that Harry sometimes insisted on. He was all for their study group, but he confessed to them that sometimes he just needed to work alone. They both understood that, and respected it. Harry Potter wasn't second in his year for nothing.

Perhaps it truly was time to aim for top spot.

This year was _all about_ change, wasn't it?

Harry wasn't really a big eater. He ate his fill, which consisted of a well-balanced meal. His eating habits were courtesy of his mother, and his physique beneath his clothes was courtesy of Sirius' Quidditch drills and battle training (that Lily Evans  
knew nothing about). He even bypassed dessert, but did have a second glass of pumpkin juice.

Harry once confided in Luna that, for some years, he and his mother had struggled to get food on the table. She was a proud witch and refused to take money from anyone, particularly from Sirius. She wanted to make her own way and, after she left the Wizarding  
World following the debacle that was her relationship with James Potter; the first few years had been _difficult_. To this day, Lily wanted nothing to do with the British Wizarding World.

As yet, both Harry and Sirius were confused as to where the Lord Black actually fit when it came to Lily Evans and her magical aversion.

As much as Lily wanted to remain out of the world that essentially ostracised her, it did not stop her from teaching her son everything she could about it. On top of his pre-Hogwarts Muggle education; Harry sat for classes with his mother about Wizarding  
History, the many Magical Creatures and the Ever-Present Bigotry. Harry didn't fully understand it all until he stepped foot into the World his mother left, and he suddenly knew why she had.

It didn't matter whether one was magical or Muggle. Not really. _Human beings_ were still cruel.

And he happened to be related to several of those cruel human beings.

Harry could sometimes accept being ignored by his father. James Potter made a choice all those years ago, and that was that. He left Lily and Harry in favour of Jack and the woman he'd cheated on Lily with.

It was fine; painful to think about, but fine. Harry, at least, held little resentment for _that_. It was what came _after_ that made Harry positively despise his father with every fibre of his being.

"I can practically feel your magic," Luna said, getting Harry's attention.

"Huh?"

"Calm down," she whispered.

He let out a long breath. "I am calm."

"Liar."

He chuckled. "Are you almost done? I want to go back to the library."

Neville and Luna exchanged a look. "Well, Harry, we actually wanted to visit Hagrid," Luna said. "Daddy said that - "

"Say no more," Harry said, raising a hand to stop her. "You two go on. I'll just see you tomorrow."

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?"

Harry didn't even bother responding to that question. Luna and Neville _knew_ that Hagrid was Jack's friend; he was on Jack's side. Whatever. "I'll just see you tomorrow," he repeated, as he slowly rose to his feet. "Goodnight." He didn't even wait  
for a response as he hurried out of the Great Hall.

Harry didn't go back to the library.

Instead, he headed to Gryffindor Tower. The Common Room, thankfully, was lightly populated. He preferred it that way. He moved towards the back of the Room, where the bookshelves were. He had to admit that the one perk of having the Transfiguration Professor  
as their Head of House was that there were always advanced Transfiguration books on offer, and Harry was looking for something specific. Their school-wide prank was going to require a lot of work involving time-delayed transfigurations.

For alibis and such.

By the time Harry decided on at least two books that suited his fancy, more students were back from dinner and the Common Room was starting to fill up. It was time to leave. He was just heading towards the stairs when the portrait swung open and Jack  
and his friends walked in. It was odd, really, the way that Jack monopolised the friendships of everyone in the House. At the end of the day, there were none left for Harry.

He pretended that it didn't bother him; that he was above it all, but he knew better.

Harry shook his head. There was no point in dwelling on it any more than he already did. This was his life, and it was a good life, as lonely as it sometimes was. He hurried up to his room and closed himself away behind the curtains of his bed. He considered  
writing a letter to his mother, but decided against it. He didn't want to give her the impression that something was wrong. She'd just worry unnecessarily, and that wouldn't allow her to focus on her own life.

Harry read through the Transfiguration books until he fell asleep. He'd tried to make notes, but gave up when his eyes started to droop. As much fun as it probably was to stay up late; Harry made a habit of listening to his body's natural clock.

Harry's Sunday went about the same way that his Saturday had, and then it was Monday, and that was the day that things truly started to change. That morning, he forced himself to sit at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, just so that Professor McGonagall  
wouldn't have to struggle to locate him to give him his class timetable. He barely glanced at it, before their Head of House was making the announcement about the upcoming Quidditch tryouts that coming Saturday.

Apparently, they were looking for a new Keeper.

Harry was made vaguely aware of Jack patting Ron Weasley on the back, as if he were urging him on; as if he were telling him that the position was in the bag. _And maybe it was_ , Harry thought, _because Keeper isn't the position I'm thinking of trying out for_.

Harry quickly checked his schedule to see what his first classes were, and then he was on his way. Most classes excited him. When they'd had to choose their elective subjects in their third year, Harry'd tried them all out until he was certain which ones  
he wanted to take. In the end, he decided on Ancient Runes and Arithmancy.

Like his mother.

The day itself was relatively uneventful. In fact, it was rather boring. Most of their professors did small overviews on the previous year's coursework, and then laid out what the upcoming year would consist of. Even their new Defence Against the Dark  
Arts professor was a sordid theoretical person. Who in their right mind would think that students wouldn't need to work on practical magic? Regardless of whether Voldemort was back or not.

Which he was.

Harry'd seen him with his own two - four, if one was being mean about it - eyes. Harry'd even fought him. Though the number of people who knew that could probably be counted on one hand. Maybe two, if you counted who Jack might have told - or _not_ told.

It was after classes let out that Harry finally figured out that this year definitely _was_ going to be different. He was seated at his usual table in the library, rereading the chapter they would be studying in Charms and making additional notes  
to the ones he'd already made over the summer. It wasn't as if he really needed to be doing it, but he had nothing better to do.

That was where she found him.

"Tell me something," she said, getting Harry's attention. "Are you _trying_ to get yourself killed?"

Harry forced his gaze upwards from the textbook he was reading. "Hmm?"

Hermione Granger cast a quick look around the library to make sure that nobody was watching them, and then slipped into the seat opposite him. "Are you so hell spent on getting his life that you're seriously going to try out for the Quidditch team?" she  
asked, hissing slightly.

Harry shifted awkwardly. How did she even know? "Excuse me?"

"Someone heard you discussing it," she informed him.

Harry didn't respond, his mind immediately flying to the portraits he and Neville might have walked past as they discussed it. But what was she hoping to achieve by telling him any of this?

"He knows," she said suddenly, looking around once more, as if the _he_ she was referring to was going to pop out of somewhere and demand to know what was going on. "Jack knows that you want on the team, and he's willing to do anything to make sure  
that it doesn't happen."

Harry just stared at her, trying to figure out what this was. Was it a trap? Did Jack send her to try to scare him off?

"Just be careful," she said seriously, her fingers twitching on the table, as if she were trying to stop herself from reaching out and touching him. It was clearly a warning that held a lot of depth. She was really worried _for_ him, he could tell.  
"There are other forms of torture that are far worse than the self-inflicted kind."

It was a sentence that resonated with him in a way he didn't immediately understand. It wasn't so much the words she said but the _way_ she said them. She sounded broken for a moment, as if she were tired of _all of it_ ; ready to give up, and  
he didn't know what to say to her.

Hermione didn't give him a chance to respond as she suddenly stood up, turned and started to walk away. He watched as she went, mildly surprised when she glanced back at him. She smiled ever so slightly, and it was enough for him to know that he had better  
heed her warning.

* * *

Harry Potter loved to fly. If he were making a list of his favourite things, he would have to list it second only to his mother - okay, maybe third, after Sirius. It wasn't really about Quidditch, but more about _flying_. It made him feel free;  
made him feel _bigger_ than he was.

That wasn't to say that he wasn't a fan of Quidditch.

Harry knew that he had some skill but he wasn't one to flaunt it. For as long as he could remember, he was rather content with playing a few pickup games with several other overlooked students when the Quidditch pitch was empty. Though, even then, he'd  
never truly been pushed to the limits of his capability.

It was never really about winning either - well, not really - but it was about playing. He felt safe, somewhat untouchable, when he was in the air. He was able to forget about his life, the struggles of it, or the badly-kept secret that he was the bastard  
son of 'Auror Extraordinaire' James Potter.

Harry went out on his broom on Wednesday afternoon, just to try it out and clear his head. He didn't usually go out alone, and this afternoon was no different. Luna and Neville accompanied him, and sat together in the stands as he flew around like the  
reckless flyer that he was.

Nobody ever cared that he flew, or that he even commandeered the pitch when he did.

Until that afternoon.

He'd just landed on the ground, breathing heavily, and was moving to greet his two friends who'd come back down from the stands when _it happened_. He was ready to give them the verdict on his new broom, and he was already composing a letter to  
Sirius in his head.

"This has got to be the best broom in the world," he declared, grinning happily.

It was confusing to him that neither of them replied to him, and Harry frowned. Right before his eyes, Neville's smile fell away completely and his eyes widened in alarm.

"What?" Harry asked, worry claiming his features. "What, what?"

Neville didn't get the chance to respond, before they both heard the exaggerated throat-clearing from behind Harry. The raven-haired wizard didn't even have to turn around to know who was standing behind him, and he suddenly felt sick.

Harry did eventually turn, slowly, his grip on his broom tightening automatically. He was met with the smug look of his half-brother and three of his _thugs_ : Ronald Weasley, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan. All boys who could have been Harry's  
friend, but chose the Boy-Who-Lived instead.

So, there was Jack Potter.

Harry sighed.

This was the first time that Jack even paid him any mind since they returned to school, and Harry knew that it was to do with what Hermione warned him about. Jack _knew,_ and this was a lead-up to the retaliation that was surely to come.

The one good thing, Harry guessed, about having two different mothers, was that he and his brother looked nothing alike. In fact, Jack's hair was almost blond, like _his_ mother's, and his eyes were brown like James'. Consequently, Harry's hair was  
dark like his father's and his eyes were green like his mother's, or perhaps more striking if anyone looked closely enough.

As a result, Harry and Jack really didn't look at all alike. At all. If it weren't for their surnames, nobody would know that they were related. Nor that they were born two days apart.

Harry also kept his hair much shorter, which he suspected was because there was no need for him to hide _his_ scar. His wasn't the famous one.

"Jack," Harry said through gritted teeth. "What are you doing here?"

"It's a free country, Black," Jack said, shrugging. "Why? Do you have a problem with that?"

Harry glared at the other boy, choosing not to reply. As if calling him 'Black' could deny the fact that they were related.

"I hear you're thinking of trying out for _my_ team," he said curtly. "I sincerely hope, for your sake, that that's just a rumour."

At this point, Harry had no choice but to engage. "I hear that some rumours do tend to stem from truth," he said tensely.

Jack glared at him. "Don't even think of going through with it," he said, practically hissing.

"What's it to you anyway?"

"I just don't want you to embarrass yourself," Jack said, smirking at his friends. "Or hurt yourself. Whichever comes first."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I didn't think you cared so much."

"I care when your idiocy is going to cost us the House Cup," he snapped.

Harry almost growled. "Where was all your bloody _caring_ when _your_ idiocy almost cost us our lives against Voldemort?"

Jack's eyes narrowed, deftly ignoring the gasps of his friends. " _You're_ the one who decided to get in the way."

Harry sighed heavily. There was no use arguing with him over this; not after it already happened, and there was nothing they could do about it now. "What do you want, Jack?"

"Stay off my team."

"I didn't realise it belonged to you."

"What are you trying to do?"

"Why does it bother you so much?"

"He doesn't even care about you, you know? He never even mentions you."

Harry paused. Then he stepped back and shook his head.

It was always one thing for James Potter to hate him, but it was something else entirely when it was Jack. Even before they'd even _met_ ; Jack hated him. Harry tried to understand it. As an eleven-year-old, basically meeting his brother for the  
very first time within memory, he desperately tried to understand. He thought that he'd done something wrong; that he'd somehow done something to deserve it.

But, apparently, all he'd done was be born.

Harry took a deep breath. If he'd been undecided about trying out for the team before; he definitely wasn't now. He _would_ try out, and he _would_ get on the team. There was no choice now.

"I will see you on Saturday," Harry said. "And _I will_ outfly you."

Jack's left eye twitched. "I'd like to see you try."

Harry could hear the challenge in his voice, and he fought the urge to smirk. His brother felt threatened; _that_ was as clear as day.

"Tell you what, Black, let's make a deal," Jack said, stepping forward. His friends automatically stepped forward with him. "You and I will fly against each other. If you win, I will leave the team, and practically hand you my position." That received  
a gasp from all those around, including Luna and Neville. "But _when_ I win, you'll stay away from Quidditch, stay away from _me_ , and just stop trying to steal my life."

Harry bristled. "I am not trying to steal your life," he said seriously, and truthfully. "It isn't even worth stealing anyway."

"Take the deal, Harry."

"And why should I?"

"If you think your life is a nightmare now, then you have another thing coming," he said, his voice taking on a tone that Harry knew he reserved for Voldemort. Despite Jack's shortcomings in the boys' numerous fights against the Dark Lord, the older Gryffindor  
still ran head first into confrontations, stupidly and bravely. He was a prime example of 'fake it until you make it.'

And Harry now _knew_ that Jack had a vicious side. Didn't everyone?

Harry looked at Jack, and then he looked at Neville and Luna. Neville shook his head, but Luna didn't respond at all. Her eyes were trained on Jack, a slight frown on her face.

Surprisingly, _that_ was enough for Harry.

"Fine," he said.

Jack's eyes widened slightly, but he recovered soon enough. "Tomorrow," he said. "Here. At midnight."

"Why midnight?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What time did you have in mind then?"

"Eight o'clock," he said. "Excuse me if I don't feel like getting a detention before the tryouts this Saturday. You could learn a little thing from me, big brother; the next time you decide to open your big fat mouth in Umbridge's class."

Jack grit his teeth. "Tomorrow at eight." He glanced at Harry's broom. "Are you going to be using that thing?"

"Why? Do you have a problem with that?"

"Who bought it for you?" he asked.

"Why does that matter?"

"You didn't steal it, did you? Don't you think you're already enough of an embarrassment to the Potter name?"

There was just so much hatred in his voice, and Harry, as much as he tried, just couldn't get used to it. He was just a boy, and he definitely shouldn't have had to. How did Jack manage so much venom in his tone?

"Oh, I see, you got your fake father to buy it for you," Jack said, realisation hitting him. "Should have known. Why Sirius would even bother with you and your whore of a mother; I don't know."

Harry's head snapped towards him, anger flashing in his eyes. "What did you just say?"

Jack stepped forward menacingly, and Ron put a hand on his arm to stop him, which he just shrugged off. "You heard me."

"Is that what your father tells you?" Harry asked harshly, his hand twitching as he forced himself not to draw his wand. It was three versus four, which were reasonable odds if one of those three was Harry Potter; but he wasn't going to put his friends  
in danger that way. "And you just believe every word that comes out of his mouth, don't you? You can't even think for yourself."

"Harry," Neville said. "Let's go."

Harry shook his head, his eyes never leaving his brother's face. "Don't you dare talk about my mother," he said coldly. "Talk about me, I don't fucking care, but you leave my mother out of it."

"Or what?"

"You ever think about it, Jack? What kind of life you would be living if it were the other way around? If it'd been my mother that your precious father chose?"

Jack just stared at him.

"Now turn around and walk away, before I show you exactly what the difference is between Lily Evans' son and the degenerate that James Potter appears to be raising."

It looked like Jack wanted to say something more, but Ron tugged on his arm much harder than the last time.

"Now, Jack, let's go!"

Jack glanced at his redheaded friend, his anger subsiding slightly. "Fine," he growled.

Ron cast a look at Harry, his features softening slightly. He didn't say anything though, as he started to lead his friend away, followed by Dean and Seamus, who looked entirely uncomfortable. The conversation had turned painfully ugly, and unnecessarily.

Harry didn't turn around until Jack and his friends were completely out of sight. He wouldn't put it past his brother to hex him in the back if he had the chance. He'd done it before.

When Harry turned around to look at his friends, he was sure that his facial expression mirrored theirs. He was terrified, somewhat excited, and suddenly wary of what his mother would say.

"Oh, Harry," Neville said, shaking his head. "What have you done?"

* * *

After Hermione found out about the challenge between the two Potter brothers, she immediately went in search of the older Potter, ready to give him a piece of her mine. She found him in the Gryffindor Common Room, laughing at something Ron must have said.  
She didn't even bother with the formalities as she roughly pulled him to his feet and dragged him out of the Room.

Jack barely had it in his mind to protest, but he did take his arm back once they were safely away from the Fat Lady. "Merlin, Hermione," he huffed. "Do you want to rip my arm off or something?"

"Sit," she commanded, pointing at a large window sill, and he did as he was told. "What's this I hear about a Quidditch challenge?"

Jack smirked. "Oh, you heard about that, huh?"

She did not look amused. "Talk. Now."

So Jack told her, leaving almost nothing out. Hermione Granger knew his secrets, going back years, to do with family, Quidditch, Voldemort and girls. She was the one person he trusted; sometimes even more than he trusted his girlfriend.

"Are you insane?" Hermione asked once he was done with his explanation. She was almost yelling at her male best friend. "You're insane. My best friend has totally gone insane."

"Shut up, Hermione," Jack muttered.

"Oh, real mature, Jack," she huffed, as she finally sat down next to him on the window sill. She let out a defeated breath before she turned her head to face him. "What are you trying to do? Challenging your brother like that?"

"Why do you even care?"

Hermione folded her arms over her chest. "Of course, why would I ever care about a bet that involved my best friend possibly leaving the Quidditch team and not getting to play the game that he loves?"

Jack dropped his gaze. "It's not going to happen."

"Because you're so certain that you can beat him?"

"Of course I am," he said, his gaze falling on her, heated. "I'm better than him."

"And what if you're not?"

"I am."

Hermione shook her head. "Why did you challenge him anyway?"

Jack took a deep breath. "Dad said that I had to do something to make sure that he didn't try out. This is the only way I could think of."

"Well, to me, it looks like you did it because you're threatened by him, Jack."

"And what if I am?" he breathed.

Hermione relaxed slightly, her hand reaching up to rest on his left shoulder. "He's not trying to take your life from you, Jack."

Jack said nothing.

"You two don't even play in the same position, do you?"

"I don't even know, and that's _not_ the point," he said, shaking her hand off his shoulder. "Quidditch is mine."

"The same way that your father is yours?"

Jack just stared at her. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Hermione did not shy away from the harshness of his tone. "You love Quidditch, right?" She waited for his nod. "Ever think that maybe Harry loves it just as much but, because of your father, he's been forced to squash it down?"

"Hermione?"

"No, Jack, use your brain for once, would you? What if it _were_ the other way around? What if your father had picked Lily and not your mum, then what? Wouldn't you just want to play this stupid game that you claim to love above all else?"

Jack stood up quite suddenly. "Stop it," he said, his voice practically pleading. "You don't know. You don't know what it's going to be like if Harry is on the team. Dad - " he halted. "Just stop, Hermione. It's too late now. I can't back out. I have  
to win."

She shook her head. "Don't you see, Jack? It doesn't matter who wins on the pitch," she said; "either way, James always wins. Right now, you and your brother; you don't even matter, and you and I both know it. Only your father wins. And the longer you  
hold onto this misplaced hatred, he always will."

* * *

When Luna was able to get Harry alone to talkabout the upcoming challenge between Jack and Harry, she too let rip into her best friend, her eyes blazing. Harry couldn't remember a time that Luna ever looked so livid with him, and it was rather frightening.

"What would your mother say?" she asked pointedly, her forefinger pointing at him violently.

"She's not going to find out," Harry said grumpily.

"And if I tell her?"

"You won't."

Luna raised an eyebrow. "Just _what_ are you trying to do, Harry?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me!"

Harry blinked in surprise. "Luna? What's wrong?"

"What do you mean what's wrong? Can't you see what you've done?" She huffed in annoyance, her little body trembling. "You can't stop now," she said. "Now that you've started, there's no stopping."

Harry must have looked confused, because she continued to speak, clearly needing to clarify a few things for her misinformed, sometimes idiotic, friend.

"It is one thing to want to be on the Quidditch team, Harry. It's another thing entirely to challenge your brother for it."

" _I_ didn't challenge _him_."

"Do you really think that anyone will believe that?" she asked, tempted to cause him some form of bodily harm. "Whatever Jack says is gold, and now you're just a villain. You're just the _other_ _brother_ who's trying to usurp Britain's Golden  
Boy."

Harry said nothing.

"It doesn't matter what you say, or what you do, Harry," she said seriously, her tone turning sympathetic. Then: "You're a complete idiot, do you know that?"

He smiled slightly. "I do know that, in fact."

Luna moved to sit down beside him. "And here I thought that this year was going to be less stressful than the last."

Harry leaned against her. "I had no choice," he said. "I couldn't say no, Luna; even if I wanted to. He wouldn't let me forget. _And_ he insulted my mum."

Luna dropped her head onto his shoulder. "I know, Harry," she said softly, knowingly. "I know."

* * *

Hermione was _in a mood_ and her fellow Gryffindors were necessarily wary around her. Save for Ginny, who didn't seem to notice that Hermione was clutching her fork a little tighter than usual as they sat at the Gryffindor table for lunch.

"I honestly can't wait for this whole thing to be over," Ginny said, leaning back slightly, and blowing air out through her nostrils.

"What?"

"This stupid challenge," she said, peeking at her friend. "Have you even been listening to me at all?"

Hermione plastered on a smile, forcing her frown away. "I've been listening," she lied. "I just don't understand why you're complaining so much."

"It's Jack," Ginny said, shoving her plate away. "All he's doing is talking about this challenge; how he _has_ to win at any cost. It's driving me insane; I'm considering suffocating him in his sleep."

Hermione just shook her head, mildly amused by the threat of violence. "It'll be over by this weekend."

Ginny sighed. "You don't honestly believe that, do you?"

Hermione eventually leaned back as well, and pushed her own plate of food away. Ginny was right in that regard, at least. This would never be over. Things had been set into motion and there would be no real end. It didn't even matter who won on the pitch.

Hermione glanced Harry's way. He was sitting further along the Gryffindor table, unsurprisingly alone. She wondered why he wasn't sitting with Neville or Luna. He was absently picking at his own food, and Hermione didn't even know how he could be so calm.  
Did he even realise what he was doing? Did he have any idea how difficult he was making everything for _everyone_ involved?

No.

He clearly didn't.

"I think we should leave Hogwarts for the week," Ginny said, nudging Hermione to get her attention. "Jack is going to be awful to deal with no matter which way it goes. I don't even know which would be worse: a sore loser or a sore winner."

Hermione snorted. "Sure, your boyfriend is definitely going to allow us not to be at the pitch tonight."

"A girl can dream," Ginny muttered as she stood up. "I've got to pee," she said, lifting her book bag. "I'll see you after class."

Hermione just nodded as she glanced Harry's way again. She was surprised to find him looking in her direction. A part of her was convinced that his eyes would follow Ginny as she walked away but she was, once again, surprised when they didn't. He kept  
his eyes trained on her and he didn't even look away when she met his gaze. In fact, he smiled at her and Hermione couldn't help but return it.

Then she shook her head, her smile never once faltering. "You are completely crazy," she mouthed and he just laughed a silent laugh.

Harry looked away from Hermione when Colin nudged him to get his attention. He glanced at Colin, listened to his question, and refused to answer, before turning back to look at Hermione, but she was gone.

He sighed.

"Are you _seriously_ going to go up against your brother?" Colin asked again, and several other Gryffindors sitting around the two of them turned to look at Harry expectantly.

Harry just sighed once more.

Colin looked at him, waiting for a response; _anything_.

Harry would say nothing. He cast one last look at them before he stood up and left the table. Words never helped him before, and he wasn't deluded enough to think they would start now.

 _Action._

That was all that would count now. His brother didn't even know what was coming his way.


	3. Safe Inside

**Chapter Three: Safe Inside**

"Are you nervous?"

Harry glanced at Luna, who was walking on his right side. He hadn't said a word for almost a full hour, which seemed to be worrying his two best friends.

"Is his vow of silence supposed to _help_ him?" Neville asked Luna from Harry's left side, talking _around_ their mutual friend.

Harry glared at his friends, though he still said nothing.

They shared a laugh at his expense, before all three of them turned serious. They'd barely eaten dinner, and Harry couldn't deny that he was nervous. What helped was that Jack looked to be feeling the same.

Harry noticed that Jack and his pals kept trying to get him alone in the buildup to this meeting, and he suspected that they had sinister intentions. They _wanted_ to make sure that Harry didn't show up at the pitch, but Luna and Neville hadn't left him alone since breakfast. Harry even set up significant wards around his bed because, really, he was practically sleeping in the Lion's den.

Harry was going to outfly Jack, and everyone was going to witness it.

They arrived at the pitch early. Well, what they thought was early. It was just gone half past seven, and the stands were already starting to fill up with students a plenty.

"Do you think the entire school is going to be here?" Neville asked.

"Probably," Luna answered. "If they know about the challenge; then they'll definitely be here. And, I suspect that Jack would have made sure the entire school knew. Though, I don't think it was a good idea. Now, everyone is going to see him get beaten."

That made Harry grin like a madman.

Neville let out a long breath. "Maybe you should start getting ready, Harry," he suggested. "Where's your broom?"

Harry pat his pocket.

"Why would you shrink your broomstick?" Neville asked incredulously. "Anything could go wrong with the expansion."

Luna looked at Neville. "It's built into the broom, Nev," she told him. "It's a sizing-mechanism."

"Oh."

Harry smiled at him.

Neville smiled back. "For the record, Harry; I hope that you do win tonight. I, for one, would love for you to wipe the smug smile off of Jack's face."

"I second that," Luna added.

Harry might have replied, but he didn't. He wasn't going to speak until Jack arrived. Thankfully, he didn't have to wait all that long for that to happen.

"Look who _actually_ decided to show up."

Harry, Neville and Luna turned to look to their collective right and spied Jack and Ron approaching them, accompanied by Lee Jordan and the Weasley twins, Fred and George. They were all Seventh-Years, and so 'impartial' enough to officiate proceedings, apparently.

Harry eventually had to agree. He liked Lee. The twins were an entirely different story, but even he had to admit that he was rather biased when it came to them. He'd been on the receiving end of one too many of their sinister pranks, courtesy of their allegiance to his brother, and Harry would never forget.

Harry cleared his throat. "Why? Did you think I wasn't coming?"

Jack didn't reply, his jaw tensing. He rather turned to look at Lee. "Would you like to do the honours?"

Lee stepped forward and cast the _Sonorus_ Charm on himself, so that his voice would carry to the stands. "Welcome, everyone," he said. "The rules today are simple. I'm going to release the Snitch, and the first Potter to catch it, wins. Fred is in charge of making things difficult for Jack, and George will do the same for Harry." At that, he turned to the two Potter boys. "There won't be any _direct_ intervention, but don't be surprised if you find a charmed bludger headed your way. Are there any questions?"

If anything, Harry truly wanted to ask where Hermione was. He'd thought she would be here, if only to reprimand him for his obvious stupidity. Was Ginny watching? Maybe they were sitting somewhere in the stands together.

Lee waited another beat, before he spoke again. "Okay then. Get ready. We'll start in five minutes."

Jack and Harry exchanged a rather heated look, and then Jack was looking up into the stands and waving. The sound of the cheering was quite overwhelming, but Harry didn't allow it to affect him. He'd already resigned himself to the fact that his own support would be minimal, but still more meaningful. In fact, he suspected that he had only two supporters, and that was perfectly fine with him.

Harry turned towards his friends and smiled sheepishly, vaguely aware of the fact that Lee was explaining the _afters_ of the challenge to the crowd. It was better that they knew now, so Jack wouldn't be able to back out. If he lost, he was off the team. Full stop.

"Is it too late to fake an injury?" Harry asked his friends.

Neville chuckled. "I think so, mate."

He exaggerated a sigh, as he retrieved his broomstick from his pocket and activated the sizing-mechanism. In one, swish and silent move, it was restored to its normal size, and Harry couldn't help his grin.

"If only Jack knew what was coming," Neville commented, somewhat darkly.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I think you've been spending too much time with Luna," he said; "you're starting to sound like her."

The Hufflepuff blushed; he _actually_ blushed, and Harry was left to wonder why that might be. Another time. He had something else to focus on right now.

Luna cleared her throat, and Harry turned his body to face her fully. "Not everyone deserves to know the real you, Harry," she said, putting her hands on his shoulders and making sure that he was looking at her. "Let them criticise who they think you are."

All he did was nod.

"Now, go and give them hell," she said, putting on that innocent face that she so loved, basically fooling everyone.

Neville and Harry exchanged a look.

"Yes, Harry," Neville said, patting him on the back; "She did just say what you think she just said."

Lee spoke up again, getting everyone's attention. "Are you both ready?"

Luna released Harry and stepped back. Neville moved to stand at her side, and Harry tried to force away his sudden, overwhelming panic. He would be fine. He had much less to lose than Jack did because, truly, he already had very little.

"Move into position," Lee instructed, and Harry did as he was told.

He didn't even look at Jack as they both mounted their brooms, and stood poised for takeoff. His mother's face flashed in his mind's eye, and it just made him that more determined. And then terrified.

"On your mark," Lee called out as he raised the Snitch in his right hand, and the crowd started to bustle from anticipation. "Ready. Get set." He paused. "Go!"

The Snitch flew out of Lee's hand, Jack quickly only its tail.

Harry turned to his friends. "My mother _never_ finds out about this," he said, before he too took off, shooting up into the sky at a dangerous speed, an excited shriek escaping his lips. He was practically a blur, and Luna gripped Neville's arm so tightly that it started to hurt.

Really, the entire thing was over in a blink of an eye.

Then it was best of three.

Best of five.

Lee called an end to proceedings after that, declaring the obvious winner.

Only one Potter left the Quidditch pitch with a smile on his face, and there had been three in attendance.

* * *

"Hey there, Potter," Hermione said, standing over said wizard, and getting Harry's attention. She'd spent all afternoon searching for him, given that he'd avoided eating his meals in the Great Hall like the plague. It surprised her, really, because she thought that he might have wanted to gloat, or even rub his victory in his brother's face.

But then she had to remember that Harry was not Jack.

Even Jack seemed rather subdued, and Hermione could only guess that it had something to do with James Potter, who was probably livid that his son had been ousted from the Quidditch team by the son he refused to acknowledge even existed.

When Harry looked up from where he was sitting at his usual table in the library, he was surprised to see a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Hey you," he breathed, matching her smile with one of his own.

"Mind if I sit?"

Harry cast a quick look around, noticing that the library was surprisingly empty. Well, it _was_ Friday afternoon; what did he expect? "Sure."

It took her a while to settle down. She even pulled out a notebook of some sort and a clutch pencil with a ladybug eraser at its top. Harry found it rather adorable that she wasn't using a quill, but he said nothing.

"What are you reading?" she eventually asked, tapping the top edge of his textbook with the back of her pencil.

" _Advanced Warding Techniques_. Have to make sure my things are protected."

Hermione regarded him for a moment, watching him as if she were searching for something telling in his features.

"What's wrong, Granger?" he asked, sensing her anxiety.

"Nothing," she said quickly. Then she sighed. "Okay, _that's_ a lie, and I told myself that I never wanted to lie to you."

"You did?"

She nodded, smiling slightly. "You're just different, Potter, and I'm pretty sure that deceiving someone like you would count as a greater sin than deceiving someone like me."

He frowned in confusion. What on earth was she going on about? "Umm?"

She gave him a small smile. "Are you going to try out?" she eventually asked, cutting to the real reason that she initiated a conversation with him.

Harry blinked. "Umm," he sounded. "To be honest, I haven't really decided yet."

That was a surprise to her. "You haven't?"

He dropped his gaze, trying to figure out how to explain to her his reasons. "James came to the pitch last night," he said softly, unable to keep the bite out of his voice. "Near the end, did you see him there?"

"No," she said, frowning at the fact that she hadn't seen the man who made life difficult for her best friend, and for the boy sitting in front of her.

But then, the previous night, Hermione had been more focused on Harry anyway. She was surprised by how much she'd _wanted_ him to win, just to see his face light up with deserved happiness.

Because he _did_ deserve it.

"He was mad... he looked _so_ angry," Harry explained. "And I suppose that I feel bad about it, you know?"

Hermione quieted quite substantially, her movements stilling and her breathing shallowing. His heart really was too good and pure.

"Jack looked devastated, Granger," he said, his own face showing some of his own devastation. "It didn't matter to me, not really, whether I won or lost, because I've lived my whole life as invisible. It meant so much more to him than it ever did to me."

"Harry," she breathed.

"So I haven't really decided yet," he said again.

"Merlin, you are so not what I thought," she said automatically, shaking her head as she forced away everything she believed she knew about him; everything Jack had told her about him. "Are you even real?"

Harry blushed. "You know, I think that's the first time that you've actually called me by my first name."

"Hmm?"

"Harry," he said; "you called me Harry."

"Oh," she sounded; "Do you mind?"

He shook his head. "That doesn't mean that I'm going to stop calling you Granger," he said cheekily.

"Is that so?" she asked, blushing slightly.

"Oh, definitely."

She let out a light laugh. "I'll get you to call me Hermione one of these days. I'm sure of it."

"Everybody needs a dream."

She regarded him for a moment, taking in all that she could. "I should let you get back to your work," she said, catching herself staring. "I have to go wrangle my boys to get them to work on their Defence essays. Are you done with yours?"

Harry nodded yes. Then, for a terrifying moment, he was tempted to ask her to stay, but the words didn't come out. They _wouldn't_.

Hermione hesitated, as if she were contemplating asking him something as well, but eventually decided against it and started to pack her notebook away.

Harry merely watched her as she stood up and pushed her chair back in under the table.

"I'll see you later," she said quietly, before she turned and walked away.

Again, Harry just watched her leave, unable to stop himself from thinking that he - maybe - was about to make his first friend in Gryffindor.

* * *

"You're not going to try out, are you?"

Sometimes Harry _hated_ that Luna knew him as well as she did. He couldn't hide anything from her, even if he tried.

"It's all over your face," she said, eyeing him curiously as she temporarily abandoned her work in favour of interrogating her best friend. It was much later on Friday night, and the library was practically empty. Even Neville refused to work this _early_ on the weekend. "What decided for you?" she asked.

"What makes you think I didn't decide for myself?"

"Because I _know_ you, Harry," she said; "and you're kind and noble and sometimes I just want to slap you upside the head."

Harry chuckled involuntarily, then cast a look around to make sure he hadn't disturbed the peace of the library. The few people about hadn't even noticed. "Has anyone ever told you that you're rather violent?"

"You might have mentioned it a few times, yes," she said, smiling at him. "Though, I'm still not sure what you're talking about."

"Sure you're not."

"Seriously, Harry," she said. "What made you decide? Or, possibly, _who_?"

Against his better judgment, his mind flew towards a certain brunette witch, and he grimaced. Since when was Hermione Granger ever a factor in anything, let alone the future of his life in Hogwarts: his second home - or third home, if you counted Sirius' Grimmauld Place as a home, which Harry _did_?

"Harry?" Luna prompted.

"I think it was James," he confessed after a moment. "And Jack, I guess. I hate him, and he hates me and, as much fun as it is to see him squirm; it's just not the same when James is the one causing it."

Luna nodded thoughtfully. "They don't deserve your kindness, you know?"

"I know."

"It'll probably drive them crazy though, if they ever knew."

"Exactly."

Luna regarded him for a moment, before she returned her attention to the essay she was writing. From the crease in her brow, Harry could tell that it was probably Potions. _That_ expression was reserved for Potions.

They worked for almost an hour, before Luna spoke up again, seemingly having made a decision about the situation as a whole. "I think you should do it."

"Do what?"

"Try out for the team."

Harry frowned. "Umm, Luna, but aren't you the one who practically flayed me when I accepted Jack's challenge?"

"I was, and I did," she said; "I still stand by it. _That_ was stupid, but this is what I also know, Harry: you deserve this. _You_. You have to do it for you and only you. Not your mother, not even your House."

"And this is why I should try out?"

"I know you'll regret it if you don't," she said. "And you'll always wonder if you _are_ actually good enough. It's one thing to beat Jack the way that you did last night; but making it onto the team will be _bigger_ , and all I've ever wanted was bigger things for you."

The wizard took a long, deep breath. "I think you've been talking to my mother a little too much."

"Lily loves me."

"I bet she does."

"Will you at least think about it?" she asked. "Don't worry about other people, okay? For once in your life, be selfish. If you truly want it, go for it. The rest of us don't matter. Just you, Harry. You are the only one."

Harry was always surprised whenever he was forced to remember that she was _younger_ than him. It was only by a little less than seven months, but it was still somewhat substantial, given the maturity that she showed. He supposed that losing her mother the way that she had shaped her in ways he would never understand.

Which was why he was so happy that Luna had such a wonderful relationship with his mother. In fact, so did Neville. Lily Evans was the mother to them all, given that they all had varying degrees of parental figures in their own lives.

"I'll think about it," Harry eventually said. If he were to consider only himself, then the decision would be easy. He would try out in a heartbeat.

But things weren't that simple.

They'd never been.

And, if he did decide to try out, they truly never would be.

* * *

The Great Hall was buzzing with excitement on Saturday morning. It was the first time that Harry braved entering it since he'd viciously outflown Jack on Thursday night, and he received a rather mixed reception. When he'd first accepted the challenge; he hadn't considered what it would actually mean for Jack, and the fact that he _was_ Lily's son made him feel conflicted.

Harry moved to sit down at the Gryffindor table, deftly ignoring the glares he was receiving from students he didn't even know. He couldn't tell if they were glaring because he'd gone up against Jack at all, or because he'd beaten him. Did it even matter?

Harry made sure to sit a little way's away from his year mates. He kept his head down and tried to get rid of the conflicted feeling that'd been plaguing him since he'd seen Jack with James on Thursday night.

Harry _was_ going to try out, that much he knew, but he wasn't yet sure for which position. His decision would be defining; that much was for sure.

He ate quickly, suddenly too nervous to stomach anything more than a few pieces of fruit and a goblet of pumpkin juice. Perhaps he should have written to Sirius again. His godfather would know what to say about all this. But, alas, Harry was on his own now, and he had decisions to make.

The first thing Harry noticed when he arrived at the Quidditch pitch for the tryouts was that there were a lot of spectators. Clearly, lots of people wanted to see what all the fuss was about Harry: the _other_ Potter intent on stealing the limelight from his far superior brother.

Or they just wanted to see him make a complete fool of himself.

Or hurt himself. Maybe he'd end up killing himself.

Was Harry actually the real deal?

As expected, Jack wasn't to be seen. Harry suspected that the boy _would_ have shown up to put up a fight, but he'd managed to get himself a detention by talking back to the unreasonable Professor Umbridge. Even though Harry knew the punishment was unfair; Jack should have known better than to engage with the woman. For anyone watching close enough; they would have seen that she was stupidly stubborn and obviously out to make Jack look like he was even more of a lunatic.

Not that she had to try all that hard.

Harry supposed that the only thing that he had going for him was that he too was invisible to Umbridge, otherwise she would have targeted him as well. Though, the boy suspected that he definitely wouldn't have made it as easy as Jack had.

Parts of the Ministry were still hard-pressed to deny the return of Voldemort, including their minion, Dolores Umbridge and her puppeteer, Minister of Magic: Cornelius Fudge; but then there were the few Ministry employees who were resisting. James Potter was one of them.

Harry sighed.

His father was _not_ his problem, because James made it abundantly clear that Harry wasn't _his_ problem either.

Besides the _many_ spectators, there weren't all that many students trying out for the team. With an almost full team already, it was no wonder that only a few people decided to show up. Harry recognised their faces but he didn't know all their names.

Angelina Johnson, the Quidditch Captain, wasted no time in getting their attention and calling a start to proceedings. "Welcome," she said, her face remaining expressionless. "As you know, we're looking for a new Keeper this year," she explained. "And now, owing to _circumstances_ , it appears that we're looking for a new Seeker as well."

Harry didn't drop his gaze when Angelina, and the rest of the team, turned their heads to glare at him. If anything, it merely firmed his resolve.

"Separate into two groups then. Keepers and Seekers."

Harry, once again, was hit with that conflicted feeling. He kept picturing Jack's face, and... urgh.

"Why aren't you moving, Potter?" Angelina barked out at him.

Harry took a breath. "Is it possible to try out for both positions?" he asked, feeling the weight of his body shift. He didn't know if something had been placed on it, or lifted up. Either way, it didn't feel _pleasant_.

"Trying to monopolise my team, are you?"

"Just trying to determine where my skills will be put to the best use," he said simply. "And, if I'm any good at Keeper, maybe I'll consider letting you get your dumb Seeker back."

"Didn't you just prove that you're a better flyer than he is?"

"So? I might be a better Keeper than everyone here as well," he said.

"Like that could ever happen."

Harry turned towards the new voice. Ronald Weasley was all decked out in his Keeper protective gear, clearly ready to do battle. He looked positively psyched up, which was probably Jack's doing. Maybe Hermione's as well.

"The position is mine," the redhead said.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Is that what Jack told you?"

Ron's eyes narrowed. "Why didn't you just stay where you were?"

"Which was where exactly, Weasley?"

"In a box."

Harry tilted his head to the side, wondering just how he felt about this boy. He _was_ Jack's best friend, so he should have automatically hated him, surely. But that couldn't be said for Hermione Granger, so why would it be the same for Ron? It was true that the boy was more inclined to back Jack up, but Harry could remember seeing the redhead attempt to reel Jack in a few times.

And, unsurprisingly, that meant something to Harry.

"If you are the better Keeper, then they will pick you," Harry said flatly. "If not, wouldn't you _want_ Gryffindor to have the strongest team?"

Ron merely scowled.

Angelina got the tryouts started then. She started with the Seekers, of which there were only two trying out. Harry was the overwhelming favourite, easily outflying the young Third-Year who dared to dream of emulating the great Jack Potter.

It was with the Keepers that things got a bit more tricky.

The thing was that Angelina didn't expect for Harry to be any good at Keeping, but the boy was just full of surprises, wasn't he? She and her fellow Chasers threw several plays at him, but he really was very good on his broom. Even Oliver Wood would have been impressed. She might have even gone so far as to say that Harry was better than Oliver, even at his prime.

But he was also a brilliant Seeker. Which left her with quite a dilemma; and a growing headache.

She even had the terrifying thought that he would probably be a better Chaser than some of the girls already on the team. He seemed to have such a keen understanding of the game that it seemed almost child's play for him to adjust his game to whatever position he was put in.

When Harry touched down after saving nine of the ten shots that the greatest Chaser force Gryffindor had ever seen sent his way; he was feeling something he couldn't remember feeling in such abundance before: pride. And he liked it.

"Potter," Angelina eventually said; "let's talk."

Harry's heart rate quickened as he walked towards her, glaringly aware of every eye on him.

"Did you know you were that good at Keeping?" she asked pointedly.

"I might even be good at Chasing," he said; "who knows?"

Despite herself, she laughed. "You're quite cheeky, aren't you?"

"My mum calls it charming."

She shook her head, still rather amused. "Your brother is a great Seeker," she said, and Harry's face fell. "But you're better, as I'm sure you now know," she continued, ignoring his predicted reaction. "Were you serious when you said that you'd consider letting Jack back on the team, given the aftermath of your ridiculous challenge?"

Harry shifted his weight from his left foot to his right, buying himself some time. "As in, he'd play Seeker?"

She nodded. "And you'd be our new Keeper."

Harry thought about it for a moment. If they wanted the best team, and Angelina clearly did, this _would_ be the best option, given the personnel that they had on offer. It was strange for him, wielding all this power. He _definitely_ liked it.

"Potter?" Angelina prompted.

"Okay," he said. "Okay." Then his face split into a wide grin.

"What?" she asked.

"Oh, Merlin, _please_ let me be there when you tell Jack that he has to play on the same team as me? He's going to shit a brick!"

And, really, all Angelina could do was laugh.

* * *

If Harry were being completely honest, he would have to describe the first few days after he made the team as _trying_. Somehow, in such a short time, he was supposed to adjust to his new role in the _team_ , and in the _House_.

Jack, of course, had let out a flurry of swear words when Angelina informed him of the new positions, and Hermione had to reprimand him quite harshly, even for her. Harry made a mental note not to curse so freely in front of her. Her slaps looked like they hurt.

What bothered Harry the most was that, now that he was on the Quidditch team, he suddenly held some kind of _status_. It actually _disturbed_ him. Girls were suddenly interested in him and he had to evade their advances as best he could, while still trying to be polite. It just didn't occur to him that being nice to a girl could be seen as so much more than what it was.

"Hey, Mr Popular," Luna teased him as she met him in front of the door to the library, when he stopped by to see her on his way to his first practice with the team the second Tuesday of term. He was, admittedly, a bit nervous about it, but he was trying not to think about it too much. He would drive himself crazy if he did. "Girls keep staring," she said, glancing about the corridor.

"All the time," he said, sounding exasperated. "I just wish that they'd stop."

"I thought you would like it," she said, continuing to tease him and enjoying it a little too much. "Or is it that you want _one_ specific girl to be leering at you, huh?"

Harry panicked. "What?"

"Although, you do remember that Ginny already has her own jock, right?" Luna continued, not noticing the alarm on his face.

"Oh," he breathed. "Right. Ginny."

She frowned. "Don't tell me that you're over your crush?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm not sure that I am," he said; "but would it be so terrible if I was?"

Luna regarded him for a moment. "It wouldn't, no," she said. "I would just be surprised. If I recall correctly, isn't Ginny Weasley going to be the girl you end up marrying?"

"You do realise that I was twelve when I said that, right?"

"Age doesn't matter when it comes to love," Luna said, thoroughly enjoying being able to tease him this way. His blush was adorable.

Harry playfully bumped her with his hip. "I'll bear that in mind the next time I decide to profess my love," he said, shaking his head. "But they'll stop staring eventually, right?" he asked quietly.

"Definitely," she said. "Nothing lasts for long in this place. Jack's bound to do something to bring you down a peg or two."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. His brother _had_ been rather quiet about the entire thing. Maybe he was finally accepting that Harry was now on the team, and that was that? Harry even chuckled. Fat chance of that.

"What?" Luna asked.

"Nothing," he replied. "But I've got to get to practice now. I'll see you later?"

"I'll be in the library until late," she informed him. "Probably trying to figure out how to reply to the letter your mother sent me."

His smile fell at the sound of that. When he'd talked with his mother over their charmed Communication Mirrors after he made the team; she'd been none too pleased with him. It wasn't that she wasn't proud - which she repeatedly told him that she was - it was that she was worried for him. It was one thing for James Potter to ignore the fact that he existed; but it was an entirely different thing to antagonise the bastard - which were _her_ words.

"She'll come around, won't she?" he asked.

"I'm sure she will, Harry," she tried to assure him. "It'll just take some time. Just stay true to who you are, and everything will be fine."

He blinked. "Are you really that worried about me?"

"I'm _always_ worried about you, Harry."

Harry didn't know how to respond to that, so he didn't.

"Good luck, okay," she said when he didn't respond. "Stay safe, all right? Try not to die or anything, would you? _That'll_ be a terrible letter I'd have to write to your mother."

Harry chuckled. "Can't have me inconveniencing you like that, now can I?"

"I always knew you cared about me."

Harry met her gaze. "Of course I care about you, Luna," he said seriously. Then: "Is something wrong?"

"No," she said quickly. _Too quickly_.

"Luna?"

"Go and enjoy your practice, Harry," she said; "We can talk later, all right?"

Harry didn't move. "Luna?"

"Go." Her voice was gentle, but there was no hint of a question in her tone. It was basically a command, and he wasn't going to disobey.

"Promise we'll talk later?"

She nodded. "I promise."

Harry, admittedly, wasn't feeling at all appeased by his talk with Luna as he made his way down to the Quidditch pitch. He felt rather exposed, walking out in the open the way that he was. He was basically _inviting_ an attack.

He arrived early enough at the locker rooms that he was alone when he got changed. He didn't actually _have_ Quidditch robes yet, so he dressed as a Muggle would, when they were about to work out. The perks of living in the Muggle world, he supposed.

He was going to have to get himself a uniform, and soon. He made a note to write home as soon as practice was over. No. He shouldn't be writing to his mother about Quidditch. Sirius then. Harry would pay him back one day, when he made enough money. _Or_ if his mother ever allowed him to access his Potter Trust Vault.

The practice itself wasn't anything to write home about. Jack and the Weasley twins didn't talk to Harry, which was perfectly fine with him. He mostly worked with the Chasers anyway, and Angelina seemed to find his snark funny. They worked on a lot of drills, fitness training and broom handling. Really, the entire thing exhausted Harry. As a result, he was practically dead on his feet when Angelina finally called an end to proceedings.

"All right, hit the showers," she called out. "Same time on Thursday."

Harry grumbled under his breath: "Thursday can take its time."

In the end, Harry would have to blame his fatigue. He was too casual; too comfortable. He stripped down and entered the showers, determined to run his complaining muscles under the stream of water and soothe the growing ache in his limbs. It was the only thing on his mind, really, and he seemed to forget.

Harry Potter forgot that he wasn't alone.

Because, suddenly, it was quiet. _Too_ quiet. When Harry turned off the shower, he felt the first wave of panic. _Something_ was wrong. He just knew it.

His first sign that his feelings weren't baseless was when he couldn't find his towel on the railing he'd left it on. Or _any_ towel for that matter. If Harry weren't so worried about the sinister nature of the _prank_ , he might have found it amusing. But it wasn't. It really wasn't.

And then, of course, his clothes were gone as well. Harry dropped his head, mentally kicking himself for not thinking of this. He _was_ Muggle-raised, and he _should have known_.

"Of course," he muttered to himself. "It was too good to be true, wasn't it, Harry Potter?"

Harry didn't have anything to dry himself off with. He didn't even have his wand. They'd taken his _wand_. Take his clothes, whatever, but his wand - that was taking it too far. He suspected that the twins were the ones to get through his Wards. He was definitely going to have to find more potent ones.

He searched the entire locker room from side to side, top to bottom, for anything at all, and the best article of clothing he could find was someone's discarded sock. That was never going to happen.

"Harry?"

His eyes widened. No! This wasn't happening. He had to be dreaming. This had to be a God-awful nightmare.

"Harry? Are you in here?"

He could hear the footsteps getting closer and closer. "Wait," he eventually called out, grabbing the closest thing he could find to cover up his privates.

Hermione rounded the lockers to find Harry standing awkwardly with an old, battered Quaffle held out in front of him, hiding his important bits. His skin looked damp and she couldn't ignore the sight of his exposed body, from the muscles in his legs and arms to his impressive abs.

"Granger?" he practically cried. "God, what are you doing in here?"

The sound of his voice brought her back to reality. "Oh, right," she said. "I brought your bag." She set his tog bag down onto the benches and turned around so he could get dressed. "Found it in the stands. This was a rookie error, Harry."

"What was?" he asked, as he cautiously moved towards his bag. He was struck with a dilemma. Did he put the Quaffle down? He couldn't unzip the bag with one hand. Not really.

"You had to know that Jack was going to try something," she continued. "I mean, isn't it hazing one-oh-one to steal the new guy's clothes during the first practice?"

Harry eventually settled for crouching down, and then dropping the Quaffle, so he was still hidden by the bench if she decided to turn around. "Oh yeah?"

"Don't you watch TV?"

"I read books," he said. "Not much of a TV person."

"Well, you should have known better," she said absently.

"Sorry," he muttered.

Hermione suddenly turned around, just as Harry lifted up his boxers. She didn't even seem all that bothered by the fact that he was half-naked. "Look, all I'm saying is that you have to be even more careful now," she said softly. "It's lucky that I managed to hear him discussing doing something to you with - " she halted. She was not going to tell him that Ginny might have known, and so condoned it. "Just, well, Jack's got the boys all riled up, and the hazing is just going to continue until you can't take it anymore and end up quitting the team."

"Never going to happen," he said gruffly, sliding his t-shirt over his head.

Hermione was mildly disappointed by his actions, but she didn't comment. "That's both good and bad," she said sadly. "But it'll get worse, you know?"

"I can take it."

"You shouldn't have to."

Harry reached into his bag for his jeans. "Why do you care so much?" he asked, finally voicing the question he'd wanted to ask for quite some time. Ever since she'd first told him to 'be careful' when she'd caught him staring at Ginny.

She eyed him. "Why wouldn't I?"

"But you don't even really know me?"

"Don't I?"

He gulped. "Not really."

"Well, then, we should probably fix that, shouldn't we?"

He sighed as he pulled out his socks and shoes from his bag and sat down on the wooden bench to put them on. "Why do you always answer my questions with questions?"

If Hermione were really to dissect her own speech patterns; she probably could have come up with an actual reason, but now wasn't the time. "Finish getting dressed," she said instead; "I have somewhere to be."

He blinked at her. "Oh. Umm. You can leave if you want to, you know? Thank you for bringing my bag."

She sighed, tapping her foot a bit impatiently. "Look, I'm sorry I'm being such a monster. It's just that Jack isn't going to like that I'm helping you."

He blinked. "Then _why_ are you helping me?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"There you go again, answering my question with a question," he pointed out.

Hermione's gaze met his, and she visibly relaxed. "Besides this whole ugly clothing situation, how _was_ your first practice?"

He managed a smile. "I didn't die, if that's what you're asking."

"I can see that."

Harry tied the shoelace of his left shoe, and then searched his bag for his wand, but it wasn't to be found. He thought he hid his panic well, but Hermione was watching him carefully.

"What's wrong?"

"My wand is missing," he said, as he stood up. "And my broom too. Bloody hell."

Hermione excused his use of language, mainly because she suspected she might have reacted the same way if her wand was missing. "Do you want me to get them for you?" she asked.

"No," he said kindly. "You've done more than enough, really. I don't want to cause more trouble for you and Jack. And plus, I think this is something I need to do myself. It's always been between me and my brother anyway."

She smiled sympathetically. "I'm sorry that all of this is happening."

"Me too," he said. "And thank you."

Hermione offered him another small smile, and then she left him to fight his own battles, as she suspected that he could. Really, if Hermione had even an inkling of what was going to happen within the hour; she _never_ would have left him by himself, let alone have left him unarmed.


	4. Mother, We Just Can't Get Enough

**Chapter Four: Mother, We Just Can't Get Enough**

Luna was the one to find him.

When Harry didn't show up at the library as he promised he would; she went looking for him. Similar to the Marauders' Map that Harry said Jack liked to boast about in the dormitory, Harry and Luna figured out how to charm their own _Mosstroopers' Map_ ,  
with the help of Sirius, of course.

She spotted his name near the Black Lake, which was odd. Harry didn't normally go down to the Black Lake and, well, it looked like he was _in_ it.

In the end, the only thing that really saved Harry from hyperthermia was that he _was_ wearing clothes; clothes that he wouldn't have been wearing if Hermione hadn't heard the _first part_ of what Jack had planned for his brother during that  
first Quidditch practice. Without his wand and vastly outnumbered, Harry was easy pickings.

They tied Harry up like some kind of rag-doll, and suspended him over the water face first, forcing him to keep his head turned to the side to be able to breathe. But, whenever the water shifted, owing to the Giant Squid or _anything,_ really, his  
entire head would be completely submerged. It was a true testament to his lung capacity that he didn't drown in the time it took for the little Ravenclaw to locate him.

Luna acted hastily, efficiently, levitating Harry away from the water and straight to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey was quick to run diagnostics and administer the required potions, all while Luna watched in complete silence, her mind already reeling.

Forget the Ravenclaws. They were going after the damn Gryffindors.

"Miss Lovegood, do you know what happened?" Madam Pomfrey eventually asked Luna, once Harry was warming up and in a deep sleep. "His body temperature is very low."

"He was in the Black Lake," she said softly, her voice a dangerous monotone. "They put him the Black Lake."

"They?"

Luna looked at the MediWitch for a moment, unsure whether she could actually trust her with this information. She didn't decide immediately. "Is he going to be okay?"

The older witch nodded. "He'll need some rest and a few more potions, but he should recover quite well."

"And if I hadn't found him?"

"I can't say."

Luna knew that she _could_ , but she wouldn't. Not until she had all the facts, at least. "Will he be asleep for long?" she asked. "I need to send a letter."

"He should be out for a while, dear," Madam Pomfrey informed her.

Luna spared Harry's sleeping form one last look before she left the Hospital Wing. She first located Neville, calling for him through their Communication Mirrors. She briefly explained what had happened, and then sent him to sit at Harry's side while  
she composed a letter to Harry's mother.

Luna decided on using a letter, mainly because she wasn't sure she would be able to _tell_ Lily Evans what happened to her son through the mirrors. She didn't think the words would even leave her mouth when faced with the resident mother's green  
eyes. They reminded her too much of Harry's.

She sent the letter off with Hedwig, who seemed to sense the urgency, even as Luna clipped the letter onto her leg. When she returned to the Hospital Wing, she found Neville dozing at Harry's side. Her boys. Someone tried to hurt one of her boys and that  
was not okay with her. Not at all.

Neville snapped to attention when he noticed Luna. "Um - wake," he mumbled. "I mean, I'm _a_ wake."

Luna moved to sit down in the chair on the other side of Harry. "Any change?"

"Still sleeping," he informed her. "Though, he was saying something early, but I couldn't make it out. It was a toss-up between mum and mine; I couldn't tell."

Luna nodded thoughtfully, filing away that bit of information for when she wasn't actively trying to think up every nasty thing she could do to Jack Potter and his minions. Oh, they definitely had another thing coming.

Her musings were interrupted by the arrival of Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore. The Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress flew straight past Harry's bed on their way to Madam Pomfrey in her office. It took every ounce of Luna's control not  
to say something. Couldn't they have at least checked on the wellbeing of the patient first?

The Professors were still in the MediWitch's office when Lily Evans arrived, practically bursting through the doors. Her eyes immediately landed on Harry and she scurried over to his bedside, absently greeting her son's two friends. She hugged his sleeping  
form, kissed his damp forehead, and then demanded answers of his two friends. She suspected that she would get the unblemished truth from them and them alone. She couldn't trust her own son not to skip over details.

Luna explained how and where she'd found him, but she didn't know _how_ he came to be where he'd been. Only Harry knew.

"But you suspect someone?"

Luna dropped her gaze. "I have no proof."

Neville stood up and offered his seat to Lily, but she waved him off, quickly Summoning another chair so the three of them could sit together, in a sombre vigil around Harry's bed. Lily was silent as she tried to wrap her head around what she'd just been  
told.

"Let me get this straight: they tied my boy to poles and hung him over the water face first?"

Luna nodded.

"And then they just left him there, forcing him to strain his neck to stay above the water so he could breathe?"

Another nod.

Lily blinked, forcing away her own tears. "And he could have died, if you hadn't gone looking for him?"

There was no response this time.

Lily's eyes drifted towards Madam Pomfrey's office. The door was closed, but it was clear to see that the people behind it were having some form of a disagreement. It was enough for Lily to know just what they were discussing. "It was Jack, wasn't it?"

Luna pressed her lips together, before she nodded. "He hasn't taken the fact that Harry's on the Quidditch team very well," she explained. "It also doesn't help that Harry's embarrassed him several times this week."

Lily took a deep, calming breath. "My son is so damn stubborn," she said tiredly.

"Yes he is," Neville said, agreeing. "But he's good, Aunt Lily. He's _really_ good. Great even."

Lily wanted to ask if Harry was better than James, but she stopped herself. These were children. She would ask Sirius later. Clearly, the man knew more about her son's flying abilities than she'd ever cared to know.

The trio's vigil was interrupted by Madam Pomfrey's door flying open, and Professor McGonagall storming out in apparent anger, immediately followed by the other two occupants. She froze when she spotted Lily. She hadn't seen the woman in some years. Lily  
Evans was always one of her favourite students and, really, Harry Potter was one of her favourites as well, though she'd never say so. He had a real knack for Transfiguration.

"Lily," McGonagall said, slowly moving towards Harry's bed. "You're here?"

"Professor," Lily replied, standing up. "Why wasn't I immediately informed when my son was brought into the Hospital Wing _unconscious_? I thought that was now a school policy. Unconsciousness equals parents."

The professor blinked. "Well, you see, our automatic system _does_ inform the parents," she explained cautiously. "The _primary_ parent."

Before Lily could even register what _that_ meant, the Hospital Wing's doors flew open again, this time admitting Senior Auror James Potter and his work partner, a female Auror-In-Training with blinding pink hair.

"Where is he?" James demanded immediately. "Where's my son?"

Nobody replied to him as he surveyed the situation. When his eyes landed on the boy in the bed, he blanched and froze mid-step.

"How nice of you to acknowledge him," Lily muttered under her breath, as she returned to her seat and looked at Harry. She did not need to deal with James Potter and his antics right now. Or ever again.

James forced his eyes away from the boy and his mother, searching for Madam Pomfrey. "What is this? I was told that my son is in the Infirmary."

Madam Pomfrey stepped forward. "He is."

James frowned. "Well, next time, be specific in your letter," he said casually. "I thought something happened to Jack."

"We'd have called in the cavalry then, wouldn't we, huh, _Dad_?"

All heads turned towards the bed, where Harry was painfully trying to sit up. Neville immediately moved to help him, and Madam Pomfrey started on further diagnostic spells.

"Harry," Lily said. "Sweetie, are you okay?"

"Obviously he's okay," James said irritably. "The blighter's more than okay; if he's already started with his insults."

Lily ignored James in favour of her son. "What happened? Who did this?"

Harry glanced at his two friends for a moment. He could tell that they already knew. His mother probably knew as well, but it would be Harry's word against Jack's, and those were terrible odds. Especially when Jack had people to support him; people to _lie_ for  
him. "Mum," he said softly. "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it does," she argued.

"No it doesn't," he said hoarsely. "We both know it doesn't."

"Harry, they could have killed you!"

"But they didn't." He coughed painfully, and Luna automatically handed him a cup of water. "They didn't," he repeated. And then he looked his father square in the eye. "Your son failed."

James was so surprised that he didn't even respond.

"Which isn't surprising," Harry continued, his striking green eyes narrowing slightly. "That's what happens when you have a failure for a father."

James sputtered. He opened his mouth to say something - probably something along the lines of 'he was Harry's father as well' - but the coward wouldn't acknowledge that Harry was his in a situation like this either.

"Now, Harry," Dumbledore said, speaking up for the first time; "that's a baseless accusation for a harmless prank."

Silence. His comment was met with complete and utter silence.

It was Luna who broke it. "Harmless?" she screeched incredulously. " _Harmless_?"

"Miss Lovegood," McGonagall said.

"No!" It was Lily this time. "You don't get to give your input here, Albus," she said, standing up and facing her former Headmaster. "I won't have you say anything to or about my son, do I make myself clear?"

A mother's ire; it was terrifying.

"After all, it was _you_ who said the words that labelled my son as little more than nothing to the rest of the world; including his sheep of a father!"

Neville was shocked. He'd never seen Lily Evans this angry before. Her cheeks were red with anger, and was that her magic rumbling? He exchanged a look with Harry, and it was clear that the raven-haired wizard was just as stunned as the rest of them.

"Get out!" Lily suddenly yelled. "All of you, get out!"

"Lily," McGonagall tried.

"No!" she snapped. "My son has been in your House for four years now. Four! Why is it that this kind of thing still happens? Control your Lions, Minerva, before one of them really does end up killed." The threat in her voice was unmistakable, and a certain  
chill fell over the room. "Now get out! My son is recovering from an attempt on his life and he needs his rest."

James started to protest.

"Say one word, Potter, and I will go straight to Amelia with this."

James snapped his mouth shut. He wouldn't put it past Lily to go over his head to his boss, Amelia Bones, about this matter. He was going to have to remind Jack to be more careful. He threw Lily one last nasty look, and then he turned and stalked out  
of the room, the others following in subdued silence.

Even Neville made a move to leave, but Lily stopped him, laughing somewhat hysterically.

"Mum?" Harry asked worriedly. "Are you okay?"

Lily's slightly manic laughter tapered off. "Do you know that that's the first time I've spoken directly to your father in years?"

Harry just waited.

Lily finally seemed to calm down. "Well, sweetheart, I do believe that you need your rest," she said gently. "I'm sorry about all of this. Maybe after this year's O.W.L.s, we can actually do that home-schooling thing that we discussed?"

Harry looked worriedly at his two friends, but they were both purposefully looking away.

Lily noticed his panic. "It's just an idea," she said, trying to calm him. "It's still a long year to go. Just promise me you'll be more careful, okay?"

"Constant vigilance," they said together, before they shared a laugh. Harry's ended prematurely when he broke out into a fit of painful coughing.

"He needs his rest," Madam Pomfrey said, speaking up from her position just out of earshot. "You can all visit him tomorrow, if you'd like."

Lily just nodded, as she moved to kiss Harry's forehead. She ran a soothing hand through his hair, her heart hurting at the sight of his pain. He was too kind and good for what the world tried to do to him. "I love you, Mr Potter."

"I love you too," he whispered as he settled down once more. He allowed himself to be tucked in, suddenly not caring that he was a fifteen-year-old boy in front of his best friends.

"Goodnight, Harry," Neville said, starting to leave.

Luna waited a moment before she moved towards Harry, bending to whisper in his ear. His face automatically broke out in a wide smile, and then Luna was skipping away, looking particularly chuffed with herself.

"What was that all about?" Lily asked Neville.

The boy shrugged. "Oh, she was probably telling him one of the ways she's planning on retaliating."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Neville smiled at her. "Don't worry, Aunt Lily," he said. "We'll take care of them."

And really, Lily didn't doubt it. Normally, she wouldn't condone such a thing, but this was different. There'd been sinister intentions behind what happened to her Harry, and that _was not_ okay with her. "Make it good, Neville."

If the young Hufflepuffwas surprised, he didn't show it. "We will."

* * *

Hermione didn't realise that something was wrong until the next morning. There was a certain buzz in the Great Hall that immediately put her on edge. Something had happened. Something of which she had to take note.

She headed towards the Gryffindor table, her mind reeling. The first thing she noticed was that Jack looked mightily smug about something; Ron looked slightly pale, but it was the sight of the twins that really made her stop and take notice.

 _Harry_.

Hermione quickly scanned the Hall for his raven hair, but came up short. When she couldn't locate Neville _or_ Luna, she just knew that something happened. No. _Jack_ had done something. That much was clear.

Her steps sped up until she reached her two friends. At the sight of her, Ron's face fell, but Jack only smirked.

"Good morning, Hermione," he said happily. "You're later than usual this morning."

Hermione fought off her blush, her reasons for being late moving to the forefront of her mind. They did not need to hear about how she got lost in a book. "What did you do?" she asked, abandoning all pretence that she was anything other than angry.

"I don't know what you mean, Hermione," Jack replied innocently.

She narrowed her eyes. "Jack," she said tensely.

His smile didn't falter. "So I see that you heard then," he said. "Can you believe it? The _other one_ is in the Infirmary for whatever reason. Clearly, he's just too much of a coward to admit that our Quidditch practice tired him out."

Several students laughed, but Hermione just frowned.

"What?" she automatically asked, her voice coming out as little more than a whisper. "You put him in the Infirmary?"

Jack's left eye twitched. "He put _himself_ in the Infirmary," he said darkly.

Hermione just shook her head. "I'm disappointed in you, Jack."

He had the decency to look ashamed for a moment, before the smirk was back. "But I didn't do _anything_ , Hermione," he said just as innocently.

She didn't even respond to him as she glared at Ron. Then at the twins. The heat of her stare was enough to leave a burn, and then she was marching out of the Great Hall. Her mind was in a frenzy as she imagined all the things that Jack could have possibly  
done to Harry for him to end up in the Hospital Wing. It had to be serious, because she was sure that Harry wouldn't have agreed to go if it wasn't completely necessary.

Hermione found him sitting up in his bed, surrounded by his mother, Luna and Neville. It was a little foreboding stepping into _that_ den, but she had to know that he was okay. Something inside of her needed to know that she hadn't been wrong to  
leave him in the locker room the way that she had.

Lily Evans spotted her first. "Someone's popular," she said, smiling at her son.

Harry looked confused for a moment, before his eyes settled on Hermione. For the smallest moment, his eyes lit up, but then they narrowed dangerously. "What are you doing here?" he asked harshly, making Hermione skip a step.

She cleared her throat, abandoning the formality of trading greetings with everyone present. "I just heard that you were in here. What happened?"

"As if you don't know."

Her eyes widened. "You don't actually think I had anything to do with this, do you?"

"What am I supposed to think, Granger?" he asked, his bottom lip trembling from anger, maybe, or _hurt_. A potent mixture of both. "If you supposedly heard what Jack had planned, why didn't you tell me?"

She blinked. "He was going to take your clothes," she said.

"And then what?"

"That's all I heard."

Harry just stared at her, his eyes colder than she'd ever seen them. "Why are you even here? Come to finish me off because your boyfriend failed?"

"Harry," she whispered, surprised.

" _Don't_ call me Harry," he said sternly, and then he turned away from her, decidedly refusing to look back at her.

Hermione felt her eyes prickle with tears, but she refused to cry. "Oh," she sounded, her eyes drifting across the the other occupants. Neville and Luna were looking anywhere but at her, but Lily was looking at her apologetically.

"Oh," Hermione said again and, with that, she turned and started to leave. It was only once she was out of the doors that she realised that someone was following her.

Luna managed to catch up to her, and they both came to a stop. There was a moment where they just stared at each other, visibly sizing each other up.

"He's not really mad," Luna eventually said, her voice gentle, almost dreamy in quality. "He's just in a bit of pain, you see? And he's irritated, and I suspect he's a little hurt, though he'll never say it out loud."

"I didn't know," she felt she had to say.

"I know," Luna assured her. "I'm sure he knows that too. He's just being unreasonable, and he wants to take it out on someone." She gestured at the other witch. "He's a bit of a drama queen sometimes."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully.

"But it's also to do with the fact that they snapped his wand, _Reductoed_ his broom and tried to drown him, so, understandably, he's in a terrible mood."

Hermione's eyes bulged. "They did what?"

Luna sighed heavily, before she told her just what had happened the evening before as Harry had explained it to them. With every word she said, Hermione's face took on a look that Luna'd never seen before. Something dangerous flashed in the brunette's  
eyes.

"Will you tell him I'm sorry?" Hermione eventually said. "Because I am."

"I'll tell him," Luna said softly. Then, her curiosity getting the better of her, she asked: "Do you actually really care?"

Hermione met her gaze. "Why wouldn't I?"

"But why?"

"Why not?"

"You've never cared before," Luna pointed out. "I wasn't here in your first year, but I suspect that you forgot all about Harry Potter when you became friends with Jack Potter and Ron Weasley. So, why now?"

Hermione swallowed thickly.

"Is it because he's now on the Quidditch team?"

"What? No!"

"Then what?" she asked pointedly. "What is it?"

Truthfully, Hermione was a little taken aback but, if she wanted answers, then she was going to get some. "It's _him_ ," she said. "It's Harry, isn't it? I never really, uh, talked to him before, but now... He's - he's sensational, isn't he?"

Luna couldn't help her own smile. "He really is."

Hermione wasn't sure just what exactly was happening during this conversation. They were both saying things, and then not saying them at the same time. How was it that they were casually discussing a boy that Hermione barely knew?

"Do you like him?" Luna suddenly asked.

"What?"

Luna shook her head. "Nothing."

Hermione shifted her weight from her left foot to her right, suddenly very uncomfortable. _Did she like him_? What kind of question was that? "Just tell him that I'm sorry."

"I will."

That was the end of their conversation. Hermione gave her one last small smile, before she turned and started on her way back to the Great Hall. She couldn't quite figure out what was going through her head.

What was Jack thinking?

Jack.

Really, she didn't think that she could handle dealing with him right now. Her anger was just building up again, and she was almost sure that she would hex him if she were to see him. But that didn't mean that she couldn't deal with someone else.

When Hermione went looking; the _someone else_ was easy enough to find.

Ginny was unlucky, really, because most of the brunette's anger was yet to be exhausted on Jack Potter, who was going to have to deal with the bulk of Hermione's ire. Seriously. What was he thinking? Harry could have been killed!

The Boy-Who-Lived would have become the Boy-Who-Killed. His own brother, no less.

She was planning what she _would_ say to him as she walked, but she decided that she definitely needed to calm down further before she saw him again, so she bypassed the Great Hall and made her way back to Gryffindor Tower.

Hermione found Ginny in the Common Room, sitting with a few of her own year mates. The redhead automatically smiled at the sight of her best friend, but it quickly fell away when she spied Hermione's facial expression.

"What's happened?" Ginny asked.

"Come with me."

There was no hint of a question, and Ginny immediately stood up and followed Hermione back out of the Common Room and into an empty corridor. She watched with worried eyes as the brunette began to pace.

"Hermione?" Ginny asked hesitantly.

"Did you know?" she suddenly asked, halting her pacing and snapping her head to look at the redhead. "Tell me, Ginny, did you know what Jack would do?"

Ginny blanched. "What?"

"I mean, sure, it's one thing to steal Harry's clothes, right? It's nothing but a _harmless_ _prank_ , but..." Hermione growled. "Tell me, _did you know_?"

Ginny dropped her head, not daring to speak.

Hermione's breath hitched. "But... why? Why didn't you try to stop him? Why didn't you tell him not to go through with it?" she demanded.

Ginny sputtered. "Don't give me that look, Hermione," she said. "It's not like he even listens to me. What was I supposed to do?"

" _More_ , Ginny," Hermione said, sounding defeated, visibly deflating. "You were supposed to do more."

* * *

Harry was released from Madam Pomfrey's care just after lunch on Wednesday afternoon. She made him drink one last round of potions before he was allowed to leave. The rest of the school was still in class - unless they were bunking - so Harry wasn't met  
by any of his friends when he stepped through the Hospital Wing's doors.

Instead, he was met by his mother.

Lily pulled her son into a long hug, using it to reassure them both that, despite everything that happened, he was alive and everything would be okay. Eventually.

She'd spent the better part of the day at Hogwarts, occasionally going down to Hogsmeade. She'd been out of the Wizarding World for so long that the witches and wizards of the little village weren't quite sure what to do with themselves _when_ they  
recognised her. Because they did; they _definitely_ did.

Lily kissed the top of his head before she released him. "Have you given any thought to what I said?" she asked.

Harry shook his head. "I'm not going to leave the team," he said seriously. "It's what they want, and I'm not going to give them the satisfaction of having ousted me."

"But Harry..."

"No," he said strongly. "I get why you're worried, Mum; and I know it's hard for you to accept that I might have something in common with James Potter - " which was said with some distaste, " - but I want this. For the first time, I get to be _part of something_.  
Something more."

Lily sighed. She hadn't expected anything else from him, so she wasn't even surprised. Harry Potter could be terribly stubborn when he wanted to be. Unfortunately, he was like his mother that way.

"Have you talked to Sirius?" Harry asked, changing the subject.

She smiled, recognising his attempt to diffuse the situation. "I did talk to him," she said. "He had half a mind to - " she paused; "well, you know how Sirius is."

Harry did, which was why he chuckled.

"He mentioned that I should take you to get a new wand," she said. "Today."

He nodded in agreement, his eyes narrowing slightly at the fact that he was currently a wizard without a wand. Jack was going to pay heavily for that. It would be relentless.

" _And_ he also mentioned that it would probably be a good idea if we took Neville with us."

Harry immediately grinned. "Oh, yes please," he said excitedly. "That would be awesome, Mum. He definitely needs his own wand, and he's not brave enough to bring it up to his gran."

Lily knew this all already, which was why she agreed with Sirius' suggestion.

"Can we take Luna as well?" he asked.

Lily couldn't stop herself from smiling knowingly. "We'll have to check, but I can't see why not, sweetheart."

Harry's grin only widened.

"Would you like to invite your other friend as well?" she asked.

He frowned. "My other friend? Who?"

"The brunette witch who came to visit you in the Hospital Wing," she said; "the one you were incredibly rude to."

Harry dropped his gaze, suddenly feeling ashamed. He'd almost forgotten what happened that morning. God, he'd been so awful to her. "She's Jack's friend," he said, as if it was all the explanation his mother would need.

"Oh."

He nodded. "Oh."

"I didn't know that," she said quietly. "But she's your friend as well?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "After this morning, I don't think so, and I don't want to put her in the middle of whatever the hell I've got going on with Jack."

"Language, Harry."

He chuckled. "But you understand what I'm trying to say."

Lily nodded thoughtfully. "Well, speaking as someone who was friends with someone who my friends didn't particularly like; I don't regret it, and something tells me that she won't either."

Harry knew a few things about his mother's friendship with his Potions Professor, Severus Snape, though she didn't usually _actively_ talk about it. Especially not around Sirius. "How could you possibly know that?" he asked.

"Call it a witch's intuition."

Harry was tempted to question her further but decided against it. He didn't want to think about Hermione Granger right now; he thought about her enough already.

" _And_ I talked to Luna."

"What did she tell you?" he asked, suddenly very curious.

Lily said nothing.

"I don't think that I like that you and my best friend discuss me the way that the two of you do," he said, grumbling slightly.

Lily put an arm around his shoulder, and started them walking away from the doors to the Hospital Wing towards Gryffindor Tower. She suspected that Harry wanted to pick up something from his room while they waited for Neville and Luna to get out of class.

It had been a long time since Lily had been back in the Tower, and she was hit by memories upon memories of her time in school as Harry left her alone in the Common Room. _A lot_ of her memories in this Tower involved the Marauders and her roommates.  
Really, if anyone had told her then how her life would play out; she never would have believed them.

First and foremost, she never would have believed that she would fall in love with James Potter, let alone agree to marry him, and then give birth to his son. But what she definitely wouldn't have believed was that the boy she fell so head over heels  
for would ever betray her the way that he had.

With one of her best friends, no less.

Lily shook her head. There was no use dwelling on that now. _Her_ turmoil was over. She knew what it was like to have a sibling hate you, but her son also had to deal with said sibling wanting to harm you. Lily wasn't sure how to make that better  
for her son.

Or if she even could.

Harry was grinning when he returned to the Common Room, having changed into something more Muggle to match his mother's attire. He didn't care much for Wizarding World etiquette, mainly because his mother didn't care. Only Sirius was _forced_ to  
care whenever he attended the Wizengamot.

"What did you do?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing," he said innocently. "I didn't do anything."

"Is that so?"

He shrugged. "Okay, so I may or may not have Charmed Jack's bed to do _something_."

"Something like?"

"I can't tell you," he said. "Plausible deniability and what not."

She just laughed, shaking her head. "You spend way too much time with Sirius."

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but stopped abruptly. He spent time with Sirius, and not with his biological father. He preferred it that way, he supposed, but that didn't mean that it was okay. Especially not after their latest interaction with  
James Potter.

Lily seemed to realise what he was thinking, and pulled him into another hug, holding on to him for longer than she had before.

Harry eventually cleared his throat and removed himself from his mother's grasp. He was an independent man, wasn't he?

"We should go," he said. "Don't want to be here when the students start coming back."

Lily just nodded and stepped back, allowing him to lead the way. She spared one last look at the Common Room and shook her head of the memories that it held. It didn't matter anymore. It was over know.

Even as she thought it, Lily knew it wasn't true.

It was very far from over.

* * *

Hermione spotted him as soon as she entered the library on Friday afternoon. She hadn't had time to talk to him since he returned to class the day before. In her mind, she was giving him space, but she was practically burning with what she wanted to tell  
him.

She couldn't even deny how relieved she was to see him, alive and healthy, out and about. She'd noticed that he always sat at the same table, in the exact same chair. He also always had his textbook on his left side, and his notebook on his right, his  
pen waiting expectantly in his right hand. He didn't use a quill either when it wasn't required.

She always appreciated that he was very Muggle in his ways, but she'd never told him. She'd never had the chance to. Not until now.

She was still beyond angry with her best friends and, as a result, she wasn't talking to them. How could she? She didn't even know what to say to them? Weren't they ashamed? Didn't they even bother to think it through before they decided that almost drowning  
a fifteen-year-old boy would be amusing?

"Granger, you're staring."

Hermione snapped to attention. "What?"

Harry couldn't help his smile. "I said, you're staring at me," he repeated. "Are you planning on sitting down or what?"

"That depends," she said. "Are you still mad at me?"

His smile fell. "Oh, right," he said, dropping his gaze. "I'm sorry about that. I definitely shouldn't have taken it out on you like that. But I wasn't really mad to begin with, you know?"

"Luna might have mentioned it," she said, wary of bringing Luna up, given the girls' last conversation. Hermione was still somewhat confused by it. "I hear that you had quite the night."

He ran a hand through his hair, leaning back in his chair. "You could say that, yeah."

"Listen, Potter, I really am sorry about what happened," she hurried to say. "If I had known what - "

He raised a hand to stop her. "It's not your fault," he said seriously. "And please don't apologise for him. He made his choices, and you've made yours." He smiled slightly. "So, are you planning on sitting down or what?" he asked again.

Hermione did eventually move to sit down opposite him, and proceeded to remove her work from her book bag. She took her time getting comfortable, settling into position. When she looked up, she was surprised to find Harry looking at her curiously.

"What?" she asked innocently.

He swallowed. "Nothing."

"You don't mind if I stay, do you?"

"Not at all."

She gave him a small smile. "I noticed that you had a new wand in class today," she said.

"Uh, yeah," he said, absently touching his new wand hidden in his robes. "My mum took me and Neville to get new wands."

"You _and_ Neville?"

"Neville's always had, uhm, a problem with his wand's compatibility," he half-explained. "So we just used the opportunity to get him a new one."

"And yours?"

"It didn't take as long as it did the first time, that's for sure," he said. "The first time, we were there for hours, and we still couldn't find the right one."

"But you think you have it now?"

He nodded. "I _felt_ it," he said, blushing slightly. "Does that sound stupid?"

"Not at all."

"It's not as if I'll be thanking Jack anytime soon though," he said tensely.

She nodded. "How was yesterday's practice, by the way?"

"Angelina gave the boys a piece of her mind, but I doubt it will do much good," he informed her. "Though, I'm a lot more careful now. I really was exhausted that day, and I swear I still have an ache in my neck."

"What about your broom?"

"Oh, I used an old Cleansweep," he said, chuckling. "Those things are terrible, by the way. Sirius said he would try to get me a replacement as soon as he could. As long as it's before the first match, I don't mind the wait."

"And how is it in the dorm with Jack?"

Harry shifted in his seat. "Why are you asking _me_? Haven't you talked to him about it?"

It was her turn to blush. "Not exactly," she confessed. "I kind of gave him a piece of my mind, and we haven't talked since. I think I'm waiting for an apology that may never come."

"Join the club."

Hermione gestured at the table. "It seems that I have."

He grinned at her. "Welcome, welcome."

She returned his grin for a moment, and then dropped her head and got down to business. Their second week back was already proving to be trying, _and_ this was their O.W.L. year. This year would determine which N.E.W.T courses she would take.

As yet, she was taking _all_ of them.

"Why are you smiling?"

She looked up at him. "Hmm?"

"You're smiling," he said. "Why?"

"No reason."

He raised an eyebrow. "Okay."

Her smile merely widened. "I have a question."

"I'm listening."

"Can I go back to calling you Harry?"

He let out a light breath. "If you want to," he said kindly. "And I shall continue to call you Granger."

"One day, you'll call me Hermione," she said, tilting her head slightly.

"I'm sure I will."

"Is that so?"

He nodded. "We talk now," he said; "it's bound to happen."

"You're so sure, aren't you?"

"I would even go so far as to say that I might have joined the team because I _wanted_ to be able to talk to you without the school burning to the ground."

She laughed out loud at that, the glorious sound carrying far and wide and tugging on his heart in a way that was very new to him. Huh? "You're a little ridiculous," she said teasingly. Then: "This was all about you, Harry."

"And my mum," he added.

"And your mum," she echoed.


	5. After All

**Chapter Five: After All**

It started that way.

Harry and Hermione didn't exactly spend _all_ their time together. In fact, nothing about their respective individual routines really changed. It was just that the time that Harry scheduled to spend alone in the library was now spent with Hermione sitting across from him.

They didn't always talk. They were too academically-minded to waste their time with unnecessary conversation, but they _did_ talk. About schoolwork, mainly, and sometimes they touched on family.

 _Sometimes_.

Harry got the distinct impression that Hermione didn't like talking about her own family, when the only thing she told him was that her parents were dentists from Oxfordshire. The way she spoke about them felt impersonal, but he didn't question her. The same way she didn't ask him about what he felt about his own parental situation.

Harry talked about his friends a lot. So much so that Hermione was starting to formulate new, complete pictures of both Neville and Luna, the same way that she now saw Harry in this new light. She didn't bring up Jack, Ron or the twins at all. Harry's jaw tended to clench whenever his brother was brought up, and she got the distinct feeling that he was actively trying not to ask her something specific. She didn't think that either of them were ready for the answer to the question he wasn't asking.

It would be an understatement to say that things were _tense_. Hermione just didn't understand how nobody was taking it seriously. It was as if nothing had happened, the way the entire thing was swept under the mattress. As was usually the case, she now learned.

She liked to think that it was about the blood. Jack was a Pureblood and Harry wasn't. But it was something else; something that transcended Jack and Harry's hatred of each other. It even went beyond the parents as well: Lily, Sirius, James, and even Jack's mother. There was _something_ ; something that they all knew that was protecting Jack, and that was why there was no use in fighting.

Hermione sighed. She should have been relieved, right? She shouldn't have _wanted_ some action to be taken against Jack. Right?

"It's your birthday."

Hermione stopped writing, lifting her quill up off the page. She'd been hoping to avoid having to have this discussion with Harry, but she had to know he would bring it up at some point.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She swallowed thickly. "It's just a day, Harry," she explained half-heartedly. "It doesn't mean anything."

He looked thoughtful. "So we're not a fan of our birthday then?"

"We're not, no."

"Okay."

She blinked in surprise. "Okay?"

"If you don't want to celebrate your birthday, then that's up to you," he said. "Though, you should know that I may or may not have scrapped together some kind of present when I found out it was your birthday, and you may or may not be breaking my heart by saying that you don't want it."

She chuckled. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a drama queen?"

"Oh, Luna does; all the time," he said, laughing softly. "I don't know what you're both talking about though. I'm a perfectly normal queen."

She shook her head. "Well, if it makes you feel better, I didn't actually say that I didn't _want_ any presents."

"It's too late now," he said dramatically, clutching at his heart. "You've insulted me, and now you don't get your present."

"You're mean."

"Oh, so first I'm a drama queen and now I'm mean? I see how it is, Granger."

"Now you're just making me tired," she said, shaking her head. "I'm going to get back to work now."

"You do that."

Hermione was still rather amused as she returned her attention to her work. She was only vaguely aware of Harry also returning to his work. After a few minutes, he started to move again, ruffling through his book bag, and then he was sliding a small package across the desk towards her.

"It's not much," he said softly. "Well, it's actually _nothing_ , really, but I think you still might appreciate it."

Hermione looked at him for a moment, before she opened the package. It consisted of several pieces of parchment, each one boasting a seemingly endless list of book titles and their authors.

Harry proceeded to explain. "I know that you were complaining to Madam Pince about the books that the library _doesn't_ have while we were in here on Sunday, and I thought that you might like to know which books Sirius has in his library. So I wrote to him, and he said that, if ever you wanted to borrow anything from that, umm, _redacted_ list; he'd be happy to let you."

She just stared at him for a long moment, her eyes betraying her by tearing up.

Harry's own eyes widened. "Oh my, please don't cry," he said hurriedly. "Don't you like it?"

"No, it's not that," she said just as quickly, suddenly embarrassed by her own reaction as she swiped roughly at her traitorous eyes. "It's just that, well, nobody's ever done something as thoughtful as this for me before."

Harry frowned. "That can't be true."

She dropped her gaze. "It is," she whispered.

He couldn't quite believe it, but she seemed so sure. "Well, you're welcome then."

She laughed. "Thank you, Harry."

"Anytime, Granger."

Hermione didn't trust herself to say anything more, so she put the parchment away and returned to her work. She was safe with her books. They'd never failed her before. But then, she couldn't mistake the feeling of being _safe_ with Harry. It was odd for her. She'd never truly felt this kind of unbridled acceptance. Sure there was Jack, and there was Ron, but things didn't always feel easy with them. And she wasn't even going to get started on Ginny.

"It's my birthday," she suddenly said, and his head snapped up. "It's my birthday today," she repeated. "My parents have forgotten my birthday for the past seven years, Harry. That's why it's just a day to me."

He knew there were many ways this conversation could go, and he didn't want to push her to answer any questions she wasn't comfortable with. "Well, it's not going to be _just a day_ anymore, okay?"

"Okay."

He smiled at her. "I'm telling you now, Granger; we're going to have a massive party for you next year."

Hermione was feeling a little too overwhelmed to respond, so she said nothing. She'd _meant_ it when she told Luna that she thought he was sensational. He was so kind. How was it even possible, when he'd been dealt so many cards that she now knew about?

As a result of her strange emotions, Hermione left the library earlier than usual, particularly for a Tuesday. She wasn't exaggerating when she'd told him about her parents. They were just so busy with their work and their own lives that it was easy for them to forget that they had a daughter, or even that said daughter _aged_.

Sometimes Hermione hated that she was away from home for so many months of the year, but then she was convinced that it would be a lot worse if she were actually at home. Their neglect would only be amplified and, as a result, she was practically raising herself.

As yet, she was convinced that she was doing an okay job.

When she excused herself, Harry didn't try to force her to stay. All he did was ask if she was sure. And then he asked if she was okay, his eyes so innocent and kind, that it was the first time that she considered revealing all her secrets to him.

Slowly, Hermione was learning more and more about who he was behind what the rest of the Wizarding World thought of him. Or didn't. She'd gone through four years without really paying any attention him - being friends with Jack and Ron was a full-time job - and now everything was different. She'd like to come across as entirely blameless, but she _knew_ about Jack's disdain towards Harry. It was unfounded, of course, but she'd never known the extents to which Jack went though.

Jack kept most things a secret from her, because he knew she wouldn't approve. It was worse now that she was an _upstanding_ prefect. She _knew_ he was channelling whatever irrational hatred James had for Harry, and Hermione tried to see through his hateful exterior. Because, truly, Harry and Malfoy were the only two people that he clashed with on a regular basis.

She couldn't explain to anyone what she saw in Jack. There was something there, under all his hatred and his anger; and sometimes Hermione thought that she was the only one who could see it. Somebody had to.

Jack _did_ eventually apologise to Hermione for going _overboard -_ his intention was never to actually hurt Harry; just embarrass him - and only Hermione. She called him an idiot. The apology itself was slightly sincere and definitely misplaced, which she was unafraid to tell him. It was met with silence. She tentatively accepted the apology because, as mad as she still was, she did miss her boys.

Even though she made up with Jack and Ron; she still wasn't really talking to Ginny. Somehow, she just couldn't get over Ginny's role in the entire thing, because Hermione held her at a higher standard than she did the boys.

And, really, it would break Harry's heart if he ever found out.

Just because Hermione wasn't talking to Ginny didn't mean that Ginny didn't try to talk to her though. Maybe it was guilt, or something else entirely. It didn't take long for Hermione to figure out what it was though. Apparently the older witch couldn't be saved from a confrontation even on her sixteenth birthday.

"Are you really going to choose Harry over Jack?" Ginny asked, her tone more severe than she intended when she managed to catch Hermione in the staircase between the fourth and fifth year dormitories.

Hermione sighed. "Is that what you think this is?"

"What else could it be?"

"You clearly don't get it," she said seriously. "There _are_ no sides."

"Yes there are, Hermione. I know it. Jack knows it. Why are you pretending as if you don't as well?" She shook her head. "He's not one of us."

Hermione nodded. "You're right, Gin; he _really_ isn't one of us," she said. "And he's better because of it." She pushed past her then, and disappeared down the stairs before Ginny could say another word.

Hermione could, perhaps, understand where her friends were coming from but she didn't have to like it. They were supposed to be better. She _needed_ them to be better. If anything, she needed them to be more like Harry. More accepting. More _open_ and caring.

They needed to be more like the person she was striving to be; the person she was now allowing herself to be.

The entire situation sat on the back of her mind as the rest of the week crawled by. She knew she was being unusually quiet, which was saying a lot because she didn't really talk all that much when it wasn't related to their school work. Her friends noticed, but Harry was the only one brave enough to ask her about it.

"Hey you," Harry said, breaking her out of her thoughts as they sat at his table in the library that Friday after what was a tiring week for both of them. "Penny for your thoughts?"

She sighed, turning her body to face him and abandoning her attempt at her Arithmancy homework. "I had a fight with Ginny."

"Another one?" he asked, giving her his full attention as well. She looked wholly less overwhelmed by it than he felt. It was something that he was starting to notice. There was something incredibly disarming about being the centre of Hermione Granger's attention.

"She claims to think that, by hanging out with you as much as I do - which isn't even all that much, really - it means that I'm essentially picking you over Jack, and that's not okay with her."

Harry spent a moment thinking about it, and he could tell from the way she bit her bottom lip that the accusation really bothered her. "We don't have to hang out as much if it's causing problems for you," he offered, even though the words burned in his throat to say.

She smiled kindly, fighting the temptation to reach across the table and touch one of his hands. "You're a little ridiculous, you know that?"

He blinked. "Umm?"

"Tell me, what do Neville and Luna think about our new, umm, friendship?"

Harry didn't have to think about it all that much. "Our, umm, friendship doesn't interfere with my friendship with them," he said. "I do think that they might be worried about your intentions with me," he said, grinning mischievously. "But that has nothing to do with you. It's just that they don't really know you, and they're probably worried that you're going to corrupt me because you're friends with Jack."

She laughed lightly, before she fell silent, suddenly looking pensive. "I think maybe the four of us should spend some time together," she said slowly. "Do you think that they'd be okay with that?"

Harry's eyes lost focus for a moment, before he nodded his head once. "I'll ask them," he finally said.

With that said, Hermione returned to her school work, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She got the feeling that he was very protective of his friends and the fact that he was letting her in even a little bit, made her shockingly, embarrassingly happy.

* * *

"I figured it out!"

Luna's declaration startled Harry, and his quill slipped, drawing a line of ink across his page. He just glared at her, as he retrieved his wand to clean up the mess with a simple spell.

It was Neville who asked the all-important question. "What did you figure out, Luna?"

Even though Neville asked the question, she directed her answer at Harry. "Time-delayed Transfiguration," she said, leaning forward slightly. "You were right when you said that we'd probably have to modify the _Tempus_ spell, and I think that I've figured out how to do it."

Harry couldn't stop his grin, and he probably would have let out an excited _whoop_ but the library was surprisingly full of non-Gryffindors for a Saturday afternoon. "Which means that we're a go?"

"We're definitely a go, Harry Potter."

Neville perked up at the sound of that. "Tomorrow night?" he asked.

Harry did a quick, mental check of the patrol schedule that he'd managed to put together based on the now three weeks that they'd been at school. "Tuesday night," he said. "Slytherin and Hufflepuff are on patrol. Neville, will you be all right to get away?"

The blond Badger smiled widely. "They won't even notice," he said simply. "I'm actually looking forward to it."

Harry and Luna exchanged a look. "We've created a monster," they said simultaneously, and all three of them burst out laughing.

It took a sharp look from Madam Pince to get them to quieten down, but Harry couldn't mistake his own excitement. On Tuesday night, they would begin their assault on the Gryffindors, namely Jack, Ron and the twins. They wouldn't hold back, and Harry didn't even care if Jack knew it was him.

In fact, he _wanted_ Jack to know it was him. Jack needed to know that he wasn't untouchable, that Harry was capable of exacting his revenge without having to shout it from the rooftops.

The trio discussed their plans a bit more, before they settled down and got back to work once more. They asked questions of each other, with Neville the Herbology genius, Luna a Charms expert and Harry the got-go-guy for Transfiguration. They helped one another this way.

They had to. Nobody else did. Not really.

They went to dinner rather late, and the Great Hall was practically empty save for a few Ravenclaws and one or two Hufflepuffs. Because of it, they ended up sitting at the Gryffindor table, which was completely empty.

It was the most blissful dinner the three of them had ever had. Harry even indulged himself with an extra slice of treacle tart.

As was part of their routine, the boys dropped Luna off first once they were done with dinner. She hugged them both, squeezing tighter than normal, and then disappeared into the Ravenclaw Common Room. Harry made a mental note to ask after whatever it was she'd wanted to talk about before the, well, _before_. He suspected that she would have brought it up if it was that important, so clearly it could wait.

The boys made idle chit-chat as they next headed to Hufflepuff. Harry sensed that there was something his friend wanted to ask him, but he just wasn't ready to ask it yet. Harry was already a patient boy, and he would be especially patient with Neville _now._ He could only guess what Neville wanted to ask him, and he doubted that either boy was truly ready for it.

By the time Harry made it to Gryffindor Tower, it was quite late. So it was quite a surprise when he found the Common Room buzzing with activity. There were an obscene amount of people present and, against his better judgment; he was curious as to the reason why. As he moved through the crowd, he asked the closest person he could find: their female sixth-year prefect. Emily was always nice to him.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Jack, Ron and the twins are throwing a party," she replied without even checking to see who'd asked the question.

Harry frowned. "A party? For what?"

This time, Emily did turn to look at the speaker, and her face fell. "Uhm?"

Harry looked at her curiously, fighting off the sudden panic that he felt. "Emily?" he queried.

"There he is!"

Harry's head snapped to the left, where he spied Jack standing on top of a table, a bottle of butterbeer held in his hand and an overly cheerful smile on his face.

"We've been waiting," he said, raising his glass. "Everybody! To Gryffindor's newest Keeper," he said, grinning madly, his eyes were practically glowing with obvious mirth.

The entire thing made Harry feel uneasy. He quickly looked around. Why was everyone looking at him like that? What was going on? Where was Hermione?

"To my little brother," Jack said, toasting Harry with that same feral look on his face. "Well, Harry, you wanted my life so badly; _here it is_."

There was something to be heard in that sentence, but Harry didn't know what. Automatically, his heart rate picked up and every possibly scenario started running through his mind. What had Jack done?

Harry didn't have to wait all that long. Somehow, he managed to make his way through the crowd towards the staircase leading up to the boys' dormitories. He ignored the insults and ribbing, calling him ungrateful for leaving a party that was supposedly being held in his honour.

It was when he got to his room that he realised what Jack meant. _The Dark Lord is coming for you_. It was written on his trunk, on his bedsheets, the wall behind his bed, and many other of his possessions. But what really made him burn with rage was that it was written on the glass of the framed picture of his mother that he kept on his night table next to his bed.

They'd even drawn a Death Eater's mask over Lily's face.

For a moment, Harry wasn't sure what to do. His eyes stung, but that was quickly squashed down. What did he expect, really? One week without Jack's taunting was bound to lead up to something. And, since they couldn't get _into_ his trunk, they decided to deface it instead.

He stood stock-still, his head spinning. Tuesday couldn't get here fast enough.

Eventually, letting out a heavy sigh, Harry retrieved his wand and started to cast _Scourgify_ at the various items. He was just getting to the picture frame, when there was a knock on the door, and Hermione was entering the room. She took one look around, clucked her tongue, and then moved to sit down beside where Harry was sitting on his bed.

"I can't believe him," she said, hissing in anger. "I thought - he was - " she stopped and sighed. "Are you all right?"

Harry didn't even look at her. "They threw a party."

"I saw," she said tiredly. "He even had the guile to tell me that it was supposed to be my birthday party."

Harry dropped his head.

Hermione put a hand on his shoulder, actually touching him for the first time. He stiffened at the contact, clearly surprised, but then he relaxed, allowing her to comfort him. She took the frame from him with her free hand and set it down on her right side, facedown. She knew that Harry could handle things when they were directed at him, but it was something else entirely when Lily Evans was dragged into it. All the poor witch had done was fall in love with the wrong Pureblood.

"I'll talk to him," Hermione said through gritted teeth.

"No," Harry said, turning his head to look at her for the first time. "I won't have you put yourself in the middle, okay? This is between Jack and me, as it's always been. As it always will be."

"I don't like it."

"I never expected you to," he said, offering her a small smile. She was positively adorable when she got all protective of him. How had he never noticed before? "Are you enjoying the party?" he asked, changing the subject and sounding mightily amused about it.

"Oh, definitely," she said sarcastically. "It's what I've always wanted."

Harry heard something in her voice; something serious. Her attempted joke wasn't completely _un_ true. "Granger?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know if you'd believe this, Harry, but I didn't really have many friends growing up," she explained, and she was surprised when he didn't make any comment. "I was too much of a bookworm, too bossy, or something or the other."

"Is that another reason why you don't like celebrating your birthday?" he asked; "because you didn't have friends to celebrate with?"

"Partly," she confessed. In the end, it really did come down to her parents, but she wasn't going to tell Harry that. Not yet, at least. It wasn't that she didn't trust him - in fact, she rather thought that she was beginning to trust him above everyone else, including Jack and Ron - it was that she wasn't ready to talk about it. When it came to her secrets; she doubted that Harry would ever reveal them in a fit of anger.

"Well, I can't really speak for those horrible little kids that you knew, but I like to think that I would have been your friend," he said kindly.

Hermione clamped down on her emotions. What was this boy doing to her? "And why do you say that?"

"My mum would have made me," he said, winking at her.

Despite herself, Hermione laughed and dropped her hand from his shoulder to rest in her lap. She was only vaguely aware of the fact that his eyes followed the movement, a small sigh escaping his lips. The entire thing made a content smile settle on her face.

Hermione's mind automatically thought back to Luna's question.

 _Did she like him?_

She didn't actually know. Did she? It would be easy to allow herself to, but the aftermath of such a revelation would be terribly difficult to deal with in this House; in this Castle; in this _World_.

"Did you talk to Neville and Luna about, umm, what we discussed?" Hermione eventually asked.

"Oh," he sounded. "Umm, I was _going_ to, but something else came up."

That piqued her interest. "What came up?"

"Our, uh, our retaliation, I guess," he answered truthfully. "We have _so much_ planned. And, as you can see; it's definitely needed."

Hermione bit her bottom lip in thought.

Harry read her facial expression for what it was. "Okay... what's wrong?"

She took a moment to figure out how to phrase her question. "Isn't that kind of stooping to his level?" she asked evenly.

Harry tried to look at it from her point of view, but it was proving to be very difficult. "I'm not intending to try to kill him, if that's what you're worried about," he said coldly, and she flinched. "So I reckon we're at two different levels. Which says a lot, given that _I'm_ the one who saved our damn lives in that bloody graveyard."

If Hermione was surprised by the severity in his tone, she didn't show it. Instead, she sighed. "Okay."

He raised his eyebrows. "Okay?"

"This is not my condoning what you have planned," she clarified. "In fact, I disagree with it, but I can tell that nothing I say will make you change your mind. So, I suppose, all I _can_ say is, you know, be careful, and try not to get caught. Because, well - "

"I don't have the same status as Jack."

Hermione pressed her lips together. "I wouldn't exactly say it like that but, essentially, yes."

Harry felt a flash of anger, and he turned his body to face her, his knee touching her thigh. "Then how exactly _would_ you say it, Granger? Because, really, I'm dying to know."

Hermione met his gaze, unafraid of the emotion in his voice. There was anger, yes, but there was something else as well. Hurt, maybe, and something like resignation. The Wizarding World already saw him as less than Jack, and so that was how he saw himself as well.

She took a deep breath. "What I would say is that your father is horrible," she said calmly. "He's also an idiot, Harry, because he has to be to miss out on knowing you. I don't want you to think that you're anything less than anyone, do you hear me? Because you're not.

"I care about Jack; he's my best friend; so I won't say anything bad about him even if, right now, it's all there would be to say. But I will say this, Harry: you are so much more than you think you are. Please believe it. This _World_ knows nothing."

Harry swallowed, temporarily muted.

"They think they do," she continued. "Fourteen years on from the end of the Second Wizarding World and nothing has changed in all that time. Honestly, and please don't take this the wrong way; but I think that the only reason that Voldemort hasn't taken over the Ministry yet is because of your father and Amelia Bones; and possibly Lord Black as well. Their presence in the Ministry is too much, which makes Fudge's slander moot."

"Voldemort would run right over Cornelius Fudge."

"Especially since he's refusing to accept that good ol' Voldy is back."

Despite himself, Harry smiled. "Why do you know so much?" he asked.

"I spend a lot of time at the Burrow," she explained, assuming that he knew that she was referring to the Weasley family's home. "Ginny's room is practically mine at this point."

Harry made a mental note of that bit of information. It was another revelation of sorts about the relationship she did or didn't have with her parents. Didn't she spend the holidays with them?

"Are you scared about what's going to happen when it comes to Voldemort?" Harry asked her. "As a Muggleborn, I mean."

"Does is matter?" she asked seriously. "My fear could just result in my dying twice, don't you think?"

Harry tried desperately not to think about a dead Hermione. Why would she even bring up such a thing? And so easily?

She seemed to sense his unease. "Sorry," she said quietly. "I'm just very comfortable with my own mortality."

"Why?"

She looked away from him, suddenly worried that she'd said too much.

"Tell me," he said quietly, demanding of her in the only way that he could.

"Have you ever wondered if, you know, you were to disappear, would anyone miss you?"

Harry didn't have to be told twice that this was a very important conversation for them, and he'd better pay attention. She looked more vulnerable than he'd ever seen her. "I haven't, no," he confessed slowly.

"Your mum?" she asked.

He nodded. "And Sirius, I suppose."

"Luna and Neville?"

"Probably, but definitely not as much."

"Because friends aren't family." It wasn't a question; she was rather stating a fact. "But friends are all I've got right now, Harry. My parents don't miss me; that much is true, so all I have is my friends. I have Jack, and Ginny, and Ron, a - "

"And me."

She wiped at a tear that he hadn't even noticed. "And you."

Harry hesitated, before he reached for her closest hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. He'd always wondered why she remained friends with Jack and Ron, and now he was starting to see a possible reason as to why. A girl who grew up without friends didn't let go of them when she finally found them, no matter what.

"I would miss you," he whispered. "So, you know, I expect you to be there when I'm like a hundred and forty years old."

She laughed lightly, a small sob escaping from her lips. "I'll do my very best, Potter."

"I'm going to hold you to that, Granger."

Hermione's gaze drifted down to their hands, and she felt herself blush. _He was holding her hand_.

Thinking that he might have overstepped, Harry took his hand back and cleared his throat. "Want to help me tidy the rest of this stuff up?"

Hermione just nodded, as she picked up the picture frame that was still on her right. "I'll start with this."

* * *

Whether consciously or not, Harry postponed the prank attack against Jack and his friends. If he really analysed his decision, it would all probably boil down to a certain brunette witch, but he wasn't to admit that to his two blond friends.

Though they probably suspected it.

It seemed to Harry that they were both withholding important questions, and he was growing impatient with their exchanged looks and awkward pauses. He was tempted to just tell them to out with it already, but he decided to wait it out. They would have waited for him.

Despite the postponement of their prank attack; the trio still snuck out after curfew to set things up on said Tuesday night, so to say. There were things that Harry would have to do in Gryffindor Tower, and he truly was a stealthy wizard. The entire operation was all keyed up to a single activation that would come from Harry's wand.

Eventually.

"One more thing," Harry told them. "He has to do one more thing."

"He tried to kill _you_ ," Neville pointed out. "And he wasn't even sorry. What reason could you possibly give for just letting it go?"

"I'm not letting it go," Harry said automatically.

"That's rubbish and you know it."

Harry stared at Neville. "What exactly is the problem, Neville?"

"The problem, Harry, is that _you_ aren't the one who's best friend was in the Infirmary because his brother can't handle the fact that you exist! Why should any of us have to put up with that?"

"Does it make us any better than him?"

"I don't care!" he snapped.

"Well, I do," he said seriously. "He thinks that I want to be him, but I don't."

"And you think that doing this will make you more like him?" It was Luna who asked the question, and Harry turned to look at her. She knew about his concerns about being inadequate; being invisible for the rest of his life. His greatest fear was turning into James, and turning into Jack was a step in that direction.

Harry didn't respond.

"Or is this really about Hermione?"

Harry's breath caught.

"Because, if it is, you should just tell us right now," she said. "It's not as if we'd hold it against you."

Harry looked between the two of them, seeing something new in their facial expressions. "What exactly are you asking me?" he asked of them.

Neville and Luna exchanged a look that Harry didn't miss.

"What?" he asked. "What? Ask your questions."

Neville cleared his throat. "Do you like her?" he asked.

No response.

He continued anyway. "Is _she_ the way that you're planning on ruining Jack?" he asked, at the same time that Luna asked: "Aren't you worried that Jack sent her to get to you from within?"

Harry was too shocked to respond. He just stared at them, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. He half expected them to tell him that they were kidding. But they weren't. He could tell.

"Harry?" Neville prompted.

"I was hoping you were joking," Harry said calmly. "Is that what you really think of her? Bloody hell, is that what you think of _me_?"

Neither of them replied.

"That's it," he said, shaking his head. "We're all going to sit down and _hang out_ ," he declared. "I can't have you thinking of her that way. Or of me, for that matter."

Luna looked like she wanted to say something, but Harry's sudden glare stopped her.

"As for the question, do I like her... yes I do. Do I like her _like that_? No, I don't think so," he said. "But would it be so terrible if I did?" He blinked. "That's a rhetorical question, by the way. I already know the answer."

Neville and Luna exchanged another look, though Harry missed that one.

"So tomorrow, or later today," Harry said, realising that it was well after midnight. "In the library, you're going to meet her properly, and you'll get to know her, and then you'll see what I see." That was all he would say. The conversation was over.

Harry bid them goodnight, somewhat curtly, and then he left the Astronomy Tower. He cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself and then headed back to Gryffindor Tower, trying to stop his mind from spinning. He couldn't really explain what he was feeling.

About Hermione, about Jack and about his own friends.

It was eerie for him as he stepped through the portrait hole and, once he was safely inside; he dropped his Charm.

"You're back."

Harry practically jumped out of his skin, his hand flying to his chest where his heart was beating a mile a minute. What the hell?

Hermione stood up from her position on the couch, and moved towards him, her expression a mixture of concern and slight amusement at his reaction.

"Granger, what are you doing down here?" he asked, sounding more annoyed than he anticipated. He was irritated with his friends, _and_ he was irritated with the girl in front of him. He knew he was being somewhat irrational, but he didn't like the fact that she was making him second guess all his actions. Whatever he was feeling; he _really_ didn't like it.

"I couldn't sleep," she said softly.

He raised an eyebrow. "Tell me the truth," he said, sounding calm. "Were you waiting for me?"

Hermione blushed. "Maybe."

"Were you worried about me?" he asked.

"Maybe."

Harry felt himself relax. And then he tensed up, his mind automatically thinking that maybe she was here, ready to get him into trouble. He stepped back slightly, his eyes glancing about the room, expecting other prefects to pop out of somewhere. _He_ would get in trouble because he wasn't important enough to escape it.

"It's just me," Hermione said, sensing his anxiety. "As your friend; not as a prefect."

Harry smiled slightly, stepping forward again. He actually walked right past her and sat down on the couch she'd just vacated. He leaned back and sighed.

Hermione joined him a moment later, sitting close enough not to be uncomfortable. "Something happened?"

He turned his head to look at her. "You're in my head, Granger."

She looked startled. "What?"

"You're in my head," he repeated. "And it's proving to be a problem. I don't know what to do about it."

She wasn't sure what to say.

He looked at her. "Do you even know what you're doing to me? Do you?"

She bit her bottom lip, slightly confused. "Uh..."

"You're going to meet my friends later today," he said suddenly, switching topics. "Properly."

"Umm... okay."

He gently nudged her with his shoulder. "If that's okay with you."

She let out a small laugh. "It's okay with me."

"I can't say if you'll be well-received," he elaborated.

"Because of Jack?"

Harry didn't immediately say yes. For some reason, he didn't think that his friends weren't on board with his friendship with Hermione Granger because of Jack. It was something else. Were they worried he would leave them behind? Were they worried that Hermione would take him away from them?

"Something happened," Hermione stated, when he didn't respond.

Harry gently pat her knee. "Something happened."

"But you're okay?"

He looked at her, his features softening when his gaze met hers. "You really care about me, don't you?"

Her eyes widened slightly. "Is that so surprising?" There she went again, answering his questions with questions of her own.

"No."

She smiled at him.

His hand moved to her knee once more, and it stayed there. "Well, just in case you were wondering; I really care about you too."

She sniffed. "I wasn't wondering."

"Sure you weren't."

She laughed. "You think you know me so well, don't you?"

"No," he said seriously, and her face fell. "But I intend to, Granger. I definitely intend to know everything there is to know about you."

On any other day, Hermione might have been terrified by that, but she wasn't. Not today. If anyone was going to know the real Hermione Jean Granger; she would allow for that person to be Harry Potter.

* * *

That evening, Harry, Luna, Neville and Hermione all sat down together to _hang out_ in the library after they'd all completed their immediate homework. Their books were still open in front of them, clearly being used as a means to ease the awkwardness.

Harry wouldn't admit it out loud but he found the fact that they were all so stiff and uncomfortable quite amusing. They wouldn't even look at one another but Neville kept glancing his way, quietly asking him the question.

 _Why was she here_?

Luna seemed a little nervous - which was something completely new to Harry - and Hermione could tell.

"Should I do something?" Hermione whispered to Harry. She was close enough to him that only he could hear, because she'd moved to sit beside him so Luna and Neville could have the other side of the table. "I should do something."

"Like what?" he whispered back.

She nudged him slightly with her elbow, making him smile. "Maybe this."

Harry leaned back slightly, just waiting for her to surprise him. He wasn't disappointed.

"Umm, Neville?" Hermione sounded.

Neville looked up, suddenly expecting the worst.

"I know you're busy with Potions there, but do you think you could answer a question for me about Herbology?"

Neville blinked back his surprise. "Umm, sure."

Hermione shifted in her seat, and proceeded to ask a question that sparked discussion among all three of them, while Harry just looked on in fascination as his two best friends and his new friend interacted.

Hermione was his friend. It was sometimes an overwhelming thought. She was his friend because she wanted to be; not because she had no other choice. Really, he didn't know what it was but he just couldn't remember what life was like without her around. He sometimes didn't even care about _before_ ; about the fact that she'd never been his friend before. It didn't matter. He didn't want it to.

Hermione suddenly laughed, and Neville was blushing while Luna rolled her eyes.

Harry could only watch on, desperate to hold onto that warm feeling that was blossoming within him. Maybe this would be a good year after all.


	6. Ghosts Can't Cry

**Chapter Six: Ghosts Can't Cry**

Jack hated this. He couldn't even believe that any of this was happening. Everything had been so perfect at the beginning of the school year. He'd had the perfect girlfriend, _two_ great best friends, a loyal Quidditch team, and all he'd had to worry about was how quickly he could get his hands on the Golden Snitch.

Then everything changed.

 _And_ he blamed Harry Potter for all of it.

Everything was just falling apart around him. Hermione should not have been standing further up the corridor talking to his half-brother and Neville. She should have been standing here with him and Ginny. Like she was supposed to; like she'd always done.

"Are you even listening to me?" Ginny asked him, trying to get his attention. "Jack? Hello? Earth to Jack?"

He looked at her, suddenly annoyed. "What now?"

Ginny sighed. "Oh, I'm sorry if I'm trying to have a conversation with my boyfriend, but he's too busy ogling my best friend."

Jack glared at her. "That's low," he said tensely. "Even for you."

"Well, what else am I supposed to think?" she asked, returning his glare. "You haven't looked away from them since they arrived."

"This isn't the way it's supposed to be."

Ginny took a deep, calming breath. It wouldn't do to lose her temper with him, but there was only so much of his obsessiveness that she could handle at any one time, and it was up to new levels this year. "Why can't you just leave it alone?"

Jack glared at her again. Why didn't she understand? "What kind of question is that? Look at them, Ginny! It's like she enjoys their company more than she does ours."

"Well, maybe she does," Ginny said, her eyes narrowing. "All you do is talk about Harry anyway. I mean, right now, do you think they're talking about the two of us the way that you're constantly on her case when she dares to spend time with us?"

"So this is my fault then? Hermione's the one cavorting with the enemy, and you're blaming me?"

Ginny took another calming breath, though it did little to calm her. "What are you so worried about, really? That Hermione is actually going to like him better? Can't be without your Hermione, can you?"

Jack shook his head. "She's your best friend too, Ginny. Aren't you even a little worried that you're going to lose her to them?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I'm just not."

"Well, I am," he huffed. "And I think you should be worried too."

"Hermione is her own person, Jack, and you're definitely not her keeper."

Jack chose not to reply, as he returned his attention to the trio further down the corridor. It bothered him to no end, and the fact that Hermione looked so relaxed irked him, which was why he had to look away again. She was his friend _first_. Harry could not take her away from him. Hadn't he taken enough already?

Jack needed a plan. He needed to get to Harry the way that Harry was getting to him because, as it stood, Harry looked undisturbed by anything to do with Jack. What was he made of? It was as if he didn't exist to him, and it really should have been the other way around. The way it'd always been.

"Oh look, they're headed this way," Ginny said, faking enthusiasm.

Jack looked up to see all three of them headed down the corridor towards them.

Only Hermione came to a stop, looking over her shoulder as she said, "Later, boys," she said happily. "Say hello to Luna for me."

Jack blinked. Luna?

Of course.

Jack's idea was so obvious; he was surprised he hadn't thought of it sooner. He would go for Harry's best friend the way that Harry had gone for his. Both of them wouldn't even know what hit them. That would definitely put a thorn in the side of James Potter's other son.

"What are you smiling at?" Hermione asked Jack, looking up at him.

He shook his head. "Oh, nothing," he said easily, slipping an arm around Ginny's shoulders. "Ready to go?"

The girls exchanged a worried look. They both knew _that_ facial expression a little too well and it normally didn't bode well for all those involved.

Jack Potter tended to turn into a raging lunatic whenever his younger half-brother was involved.

* * *

For what he had planned, Jack needed Ron's help. He didn't trust anyone else with his plans. Hermione definitely wouldn't approve of them, and he doubted that he would need to do much convincing when it came to Ron Weasley. The boy would do just about anything that Jack asked.

It helped that Hermione was splitting her time between the two Potter brothers, so it was easy for Jack to get Ron alone. They had to shake Ginny, Dean and Seamus, but it wasn't anything new for the two male members of the fledgling Golden Trio to seek some time to discuss things. Quidditch, mainly, but also girls. And this conversation was no different.

"What do you think of Harry's friend?" Jack asked Ron, cutting straight to the chase.

"He has friends?" Ron automatically joked, but quickly sobered up when Jack didn't look amused. He cleared his throat. "Umm, which one?"

"The girl."

"Loony?"

Jack frowned. "Is that her name?"

Ron laughed. "Of course not," he said; "but that's just what people call her."

"Why?"

"Because she's _loony_ ," he replied, shaking his head. "Why else?"

"What's her real name?"

"Luna Lovegood," he informed his friend. "She lives with her crazy father in Ottery St Catchpole. She's in Ginny's year, though they don't really get along anymore."

"Why's that?"

"Because she's loony."

Jack sighed. He was sure there was more to it. There usually was, whenever Ginevra Weasley was involved. "Does she have a boyfriend?"

Ron shifted his weight, suddenly uncomfortable. "Why are you asking?"

"I'm not interested in her, if that's what you're wondering," Jack said, picking up on the redhead's hesitation. "I'm not about to dump your sister and go after her." Though he'd considered. That was bound to piss Harry off more than Ron would but, alas, he was with Ginny, and he was - well, sometimes - happy with her.

"Then why are you asking?"

"For you."

Ron frowned. "You're going to have to explain that one, mate."

"Well, it seems to me that anything we do to Harry just isn't getting enough of a rise out of him," he said. "We _need_ him to retaliate, so we can get the git kicked off my team, or even expelled." He waited for Ron's nod. "So, I was thinking that the way to do that is if we go after his best friend. The way he's going after ours."

"Let me get this straight: you want me to, what, date Luna just to get under Harry's skin?"

Jack didn't reply.

Ron just stared at him for a moment, thinking back to the type of friend he'd been during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. He made a vow then to stick with Jack through everything. "That's brilliant," Ron eventually said. "That'll really tick him off."

Jack nodded. "I'm counting on it."

* * *

Of course, being who she was, Hermione found out about Ron's sudden interest in Luna almost immediately. It came from Luna herself, of course, and Hermione suspected that she asked the question to make Hermione ask her own questions of her boys. They were such idiots sometimes. Did they really think that she wouldn't find out?

Well. Hermione had to acknowledge that it appeared that they'd got away with a lot in the past years that she hadn't been privy to. But this year was different, for _so many_ reasons, and she still wasn't sure how she felt about it all.

 _Why would Ron Weasley stop calling her 'Loony' all of a sudden?_

It was a very good question. Hermione guessed that Luna already knew the reason, and it didn't take Hermione long to figure it out as well, once she went looking.

Jack.

It was half a step forward and seven steps back with that boy, and Hermione was losing her patience. It was easy to see that the boys were hiding something from her, and from Ginny. Hermione would even go so far as to say that, if he wasn't already dating Ginny, Jack would have pursued Luna himself. For a moment, Hermione allowed herself to wonder what kind of couple they would make.

But no. Luna didn't deserve what Jack and Ron had planned, and Hermione was going to put an end to it. She had to curb her anger though, as she went through the day, plotting for a way to get Jack alone long enough to give him a piece of her mind.

She needn't have waited very long. She sometimes got the feeling that Jack actually missed her, or the way that their friendship used to be before Jack believed that Harry became a thorn in his side. Was that why he kept thinking up ways to hurt Harry?

Hermione suspected that Jack was considering asking her to choose between the two brothers and, really, if it did come down to it; she wouldn't know what she would say or do. Jack was her best friend, even though he was an idiot. He'd saved her life back in their first year, and that created a bond that couldn't be altered.

But Harry. She knew that he would _never_ ask her to choose. Maybe he was terrified of what her answer would be, but she didn't think that was the case. He rather respected her decisions, her boundaries and opinions. It was definitely a change of pace, given who her best friends were. They had tendencies for being snarky and mean, and maybe that was why Luna and Neville had been skeptical about her.

It _had_ taken them quite some time to warm up to her, but she was glad that they eventually had. It also helped that she fit into their study group quite well. She was able to contribute her expertise in Potions and Arithmancy. She sat with them on Wednesdays, and some Fridays, depending on how much work that they had. Other days, she sat solely with Harry, or she was with Jack and Ron. Ginny was another story at this point, and she was trying not to think about it too much.

Hermione sometimes had the terrifying thought that Ginny _had_ noticed Harry's staring and she was, what, mad that it'd stopped? Relieved? Worried for her best friend? Trying to figure out the redhead sometimes gave her a headache.

"There she is."

Hermione snapped towards Jack's smiling face as he walked towards where she was standing in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady. She couldn't even remember coming to a stop.

"The prodigal best friend returns."

For a moment, Hermione's anger fell away. _This_ was her best friend, light smile and shining eyes. He looked younger somehow. But then he smirked knowingly, and Hermione snapped back. She started towards him, and violently poked him in the chest. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

He looked confused for a moment, surprised by the bite in her tone. But then he noticed the twitch of her upper lip - a clear indicator of both her anger and her nervousness - and he knew that she _knew_.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, faking innocence.

"Like hell you don't," she snapped, surprising him. She shook her head. "I thought you were doing better, Jack. I thought you were getting over it, but this… This is... She isn't Harry, Jack. The same way that I'm not you!"

He turned on the defensive. "I'm not doing anything wrong."

"Of course you're not," she said sarcastically. "You're having Ron do all your dirty work!"

Jack was forced to take a step back when she poked him hard in the chest again. That one was definitely going to leave a bruise.

"You're my best friend and I love you but, if you or Ron do anything to hurt Luna, I will kill you myself," she said harshly. "Your ridiculous, misguided hatred is just going to hurt us all, if you're not careful! Understand me, Jack. Mess with me, hell, mess with Harry, but you leave Luna out of this! She's better than the both of us put together. _They both are_!"

Jack said nothing as he watched her eyes darken, her anger tenfold.

There were things that she could say, but she didn't think it was worth it. Not now, at least. This boy was going to need something more than words to change his ways.

Maybe Harry was right.

* * *

Harry was literally bursting with excitement when he made his way down to breakfast on a certain Thursday. After something that Hermione mentioned the night before - about his being right, and her being wrong, which he positively revelled in - he'd set up all he needed to with regards to Jack. He was even bordering on giddy, really, and he couldn't wipe the excited grin off his face.

As soon as he entered the Great Hall, Harry's eyes searched for her. If he'd been paying enough attention to himself, he might have questioned _why_ he was looking for her first, but he paid it no mind. Hermione Granger was already looking at him, smiling a smile that he liked to think that she reserved for him. It was a mixture of disapproval, slight admiration and nervous excitement.

Harry threw her a wink and a happy grin, before he headed towards the Hufflepuff table to sit with Luna and Neville.

"I take it that everything is sorted then?" Luna asked, spying his smile.

"We are a go."

"Do you mean it this time?" Neville asked, risking a glance at the Gryffindor table where Hermione was sitting.

Harry didn't look in the direction that Neville was. "I mean it. Jack isn't going to know what hit him."

Luna laughed. "Because he really isn't," she said, her giggles infectious. "He won't actually know. Like, he'll get hit, but he won't even know what it is."

Harry matched her laughter. "We get it, Luna," he said kindly. "So, are you two set?"

"Everything is in place," Luna said. "Just waiting on the activation."

Harry was beaming by now.

The _activation_ happened two days later. The trio arrived at the Great Hall for breakfast together, and sat down in a line, so they had a direct view of the Gryffindor table. It was going to be a long, truly fulfilling day. Maybe even the week.

It started fifteen minutes later.

Jack and Ron walked into the Hall as if nothing was different about this day. The twins were already seated at the table, though Harry had something completely different in mind for them; the sheep that they were. Still, they were all blissfully unaware of what was about to happen. Jack and Ron sat down and immediately began to dish food onto their plates.

Harry timed it. One minute and thirteen seconds.

The laughter started at Gryffindor table, but quickly spread through the Hall, as more and more people caught on to the prank. It took the two recipients a moment more, before they realised that the Hall was laughing at them.

Harry, Luna and Neville were far enough not to hear what was said, but the second that Jack noticed that he was no longer wearing his school robes, and rather a bright pink, puffy Muggle prom dress; he started to speak. And what came out of his mouth was easily recognisable as Gobbledegook. The laughter in the Hall merely increased.

Of the three of them, Luna was the first to burst out laughing, clutching at her stomach. "He's so pretty," she said sweetly, as they watched both Ron and Jack stumble to their feet and then bolt from the Great Hall. The second they stepped through the doors, the trio's other plans immediately activated.

Harry snorted the second he heard it.

"Is that...?" a girl further up the table asked, clearly confused. "The School Song?"

"Who's singing? Oh Merlin, that's terrible!"

Neville's laughter made him keel over. "If only that were the worst of it," he said between breaths.

"Bloody hell, they're dancing!" someone yelled from just beyond the doors. "This is _amazing_!" Then: "Merlin, Weasley, get your hands off of me!"

Harry was laughing so hard his cheeks were starting to hurt. "Oh my, this is going to be the _best day ever_."

He wasn't wrong.

The entire day was full of Jack and Ron acting like complete fools, whenever someone said the all-important words to activate some kind of response from the boys. It was completely priceless. Harry, Luna and Neville spent hours picking out all the activation words, and what they would activate. They sat with a dictionary, and laughed uncontrollably then, and now.

Even their professors were stumped as to how to get it all to stop. There were failsafes embedded in the charmed words, and only Harry could deactivate it all, unless he merely allowed it to wear off. He was nowhere near considering _that_ though.

"Honestly, I don't think that I've experienced a better day in this place," Harry concluded, sounding quite chuffed with himself when he and Hermione settled down to work at his table after classes let out. Naturally, Jack and Ron disappeared into the dormitory to avoid anyone setting them off with a stray word. "I didn't know Jack was so good at ballet."

Hermione was trying her best not to smile, and he could tell. She _wanted_ to be amused by it all but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction. He was enjoying it all a little too much. "Why aren't you working?"

"I've finished," he said happily.

She raised an eyebrow. "Everything?"

"Everything immediate." He sat back and grinned at her. "Tell me you haven't had a great day, Granger."

She set her quill down. "It's definitely been... interesting."

"Interesting, huh? So I suspect that you're rather accustomed to having Ron quack like a chicken every few minutes."

She couldn't stop her giggle and immediately moved to cover her mouth with her hand. "Madam Sprout didn't even know what to say," she said, her laughter tingeing the tops of her cheeks an adorable red. "You've really outdone yourself, Potter."

"And the best part is that Jack still thinks it's the Slytherins."

Hermione shook her head. "He's going to figure it out soon, you know?"

"I don't doubt it."

She eyed him for a moment. "You _want_ him to know it was you?"

"Maybe." He leaned forward. "Technically, I haven't done _anything_ ," he said; "so I'm just interested in seeing how he intends to prove whatever he suspects. I want him to know how it feels to _know_ something, and have it fall on deaf ears."

Hermione's face fell. Generally, he avoided discussing how he felt about the Wizarding World essentially forgetting that he existed. They'd been instances before when the things that the Gryffindor boys did to him had been swept under the rug by the Powers That Be, and Hermione felt a pang of guilt in her chest. Sometimes she found herself just waiting for him to ask her why she was still friends with Jack.

She didn't think that she would have a suitable answer to give him. Or one that he would actually believe.

Harry changed the subject. "Did you hear that Angelina's organised a warmup game for us against Hufflepuff?" he asked.

She hadn't heard yet. "When?"

"First Saturday after Hallowe'en," he informed her. "Hopefully the twins will have recovered by then," he said with a snicker, referring to the public tongue-lashing and utter rejection the twins received at the hands of two of Gryffindor's Chasers: Angelina and Alicia. Really, Harry had _nothing_ to do with it, but it still felt like justifiable retribution.

"How are you feeling about it?"

"I'm not sure," he confessed. "I guess I'm nervous, and a little excited. I sometimes can't believe that all of this is happening."

"Because now you're a celebrity," she teased.

He laughed, absently rolling his eyes in a way that she found terribly endearing. "The verdict's still out on that one, Granger," he said, his voice slightly hoarse. "It's strange, isn't it? House politics and what not. There was a burst of excitement, and then... _nothing_. I think I'll remain somewhat of a pariah until I can actually get on the pitch and show them what I'm about."

Hermione bit at her bottom lip, contemplating whether she was going to ask the question that she wanted to. "Tell me, Harry, _why_ did you decide that this was going to be the year that you wanted to shake things up? I mean, don't get me wrong; I think it's great that you're being all that you can be, but why _now_?"

Harry went still. "Why not?" he eventually said.

"That's my line."

Harry sighed. "Tell me, Granger, did you have any idea who I actually was before any of this?" he asked.

Hermione wanted to tell him yes, but the word didn't come out. "Not exactly," she said, finally deciding. "Which I'm ashamed to say." There was more she wanted to tell him; more she had to say to explain herself, but he started speaking before she could formulate the words.

"It's okay," he said kindly. "I grew used to it, and then, one day, I decided that that isn't a life I want for myself. It shouldn't matter who my parents are, or even that Voldemort has it out for my half-brother. It was never about them."

"It's about you."

"I like to think so," he admitted. "But then I think about my mother, and my own reasoning falters. James didn't want her in the end, and so he made life in the Wizarding World so unbearable for her. I can't forgive him for that. I can't forgive him for abandoning us to have his _other_ family, and then making sure that that other family hated us, as if we are the ones who did something wrong."

Her heart was starting to hurt.

"Do you know that he didn't even tell her himself about Jack and his mother?" he asked, his eyes drifting off to the side. "There my mum was at the hospital, constantly asking for her husband-to-be, alone with this new baby, and he didn't even show up. He just - " he paused. "He didn't come, Granger, because he was with Jack. He was always with Jack."

She could hear the rush of emotion in his voice, and she desperately wanted to comfort him, but she didn't think it was what he needed right now. He _needed_ to talk about it.

"Sirius fetched her from the hospital and took her home," he continued, his eyes glazing over. "James didn't show up for another four days. I mean, what did he think was going to happen? Did he really think that my mum wouldn't find out. I'm surprised that he kept it a secret for so long anyway! She always jokes about pregnancy brain but, really, how stupid could he be?" He scoffed. "He was surprised by my arrival, because apparently I arrived three weeks early. Sirius jokes that I was just desperate to be a July baby. I was born literally seven minutes before midnight."

Hermione didn't know why that bit of information sounded important, but she still filed it away in her mind for another time.

"I always wondered if Sirius knew, you know, about the other woman, but now I know he didn't," he said.

Hermione was burning to ask him how he knew all of this, but she didn't want to disrupt his flow. It looked like it was therapeutic for him.

"I get angry sometimes," he said. "Like, impossibly angry, about everything, and I lash out. My mum takes it for all of six seconds before she threatens me with a Cheering Charm. I hate those things. The sensation is just so foreign to me. I'm _not_ a cheery person."

"I've noticed," she couldn't resist saying.

He grinned at her, and she noticed for the first time that it was slightly lopsided. "Oh, have you now?"

"You always look like you're caught between two sides of yourself, Harry," she said, sounding somewhat serious. "On the one side, you're devilishly charming and sickly confident, and then there's you who's determined to be a hermit and, really, a bit of a nerd. No cheer involved."

"My mum says that I brood, which she unhappily claims is a trait I must have inherited from James."

"Jack does it too," she said softly, wary of bringing up Jack. It seemed that the intensity of his revelations was now lost anyway, and she could feel the conversation moving on to something else; something less intense. She felt privileged, really, that he trusted her enough to reveal his thoughts and feelings about what happened to his mother, though she believed that they'd just scratched the surface.

Harry shook his head roughly, as if he were ridding his mind of certain thoughts. "Why are we even talking about this?" he asked, smiling widely. "Today is the greatest day ever, Granger. Don't you think?"

She thought back to the lopsided grin that he'd threw at her, and she was forced to agree. "It definitely is, Harry," she said, returning his smile.

There was a moment of comfortable silence, before his eyes lit up and leaned forward. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but did Hermione Granger just call me _devilishly charming_?"

Her blush was so potent, Harry thought she might actually explode. "I didn't," she managed to say.

Harry just shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around all that was happening. "Like I said: today truly is the greatest day ever."

* * *

"Please tell me you're done."

Harry couldn't help but grin at the exasperated look Hermione was giving him as she approached him in front of their Potions classroom. The Gryffindor and Slytherin students were gathered to wait for Professor Snape to unlock the door to the classroom.

"Is there more? God, I don't think I could handle any more." She practically walked into him, bumping her shoulder against his chest and resting her forehead against his collarbone. "If I have to hear Ron sing the School Song as a funeral march one more time; I think I'm going to pull out my own hair," she grumbled. "Please make it stop."

Harry chuckled lightly, though his heart rate picked up dangerously when he breathed her in. He even closed his eyes for a moment, just enjoying how close she was.

Hermione took in a sharp breath before she stood up straight and looked at his face. "How much longer?" she asked.

Just managing to recover his wondering thoughts, he checked the watch on her wrist. "It's Friday afternoon, Granger," he said. "It should wear off by the end of the day, unless he does something particularly git-worthy."

"So, Sunday then?"

He laughed, and she giggled, her forehead coming to rest on his shoulder this time. He had a fleeting thought that maybe his collarbone wasn't nearly as comfortable. It was a perfect moment, really, right until Draco Malfoy decided to ruin it.

"The famous one didn't want you, so you're sucking up to this Potter, huh, _mudblood_."

Harry tensed, but Hermione just looked amused as she turned to face the boy who dared to interrupt their moment. Harry suspected it was because Luna and Neville had told her about their opinion that Malfoy may or may not have had a not-so-secret crush on Harry, or Jack.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Malfoy," she said so casually that Harry felt like slinging an arm over her shoulders and tucking her into his side. "Did _you_ want to suck up to him? I didn't mean to get in the way."

Malfoy's response was cut off by the sound of a somewhat equally obnoxious voice.

"Oi, Malfoy, what do you think you're doing?"

Harry and Hermione groaned in unison. Things tended to escalate quickly when it came to Jack Potter and Draco Malfoy. They were practically hardwired to hate each other; following in the footsteps of their respective fathers.

Harry's hatred of Draco Malfoy was because of reasons other than their fathers, and he believed that his reasons were much more justified. He hated the boy because of who _he_ was, and not because of who his father was. In fact, sometimes Harry even felt bad for the Malfoy scion whenever Lucius Malfoy was around. _At least_ Harry's father didn't acknowledge him.

"Jack," Hermione said, the warning clear in her tone.

"No," Jack said, ignoring her. "If he's being a git to you, then he needs to be put in his place, Hermione."

"She has it under control, Jack," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"Shut up, Black," he snapped harshly, and everyone - including Malfoy - flinched in surprise. There was so much venom in his tone, that Hermione automatically stepped towards Harry, as if she could somehow shield him from his brother.

The door to the Potions classroom suddenly burst open, and Hermione did the unthinkable and let out a sigh of relief. She didn't think that there would ever be a day in her life that she would be grateful to see Professor Snape, but there was a first time for everything.

"Inside," he said, sounding bored.

The Gryffindor and Slytherin students were quick to enter the classroom and assume their seats. It was a truly subdued lesson, with Jack, Harry and Malfoy barely saying a word as Snape tried - and failed - to get any kind of rise out of either of the Potter boys.

At a certain point, Hermione took out a fresh piece of parchment and penned a quick note to Harry. It was time for the pranks to end, before Jack's planned retaliation did end up causing Harry grievous bodily harm. From Jack's tone earlier, it sounded as if he was almost there. He sounded just about done with dealing with Harry's unprovable retaliation.

When Snape _finally_ let them leave, Hermione slipped the note to Harry, and then followed Jack and Ron back to Gryffindor Tower. She was careful to avoid any words that would trigger a musical number or an embarrassing dance routine.

Harry didn't read the note until he arrived at the library, easily slipping into his chair. He took out his books and got himself settled before he unfolded the note, automatically smiling at the sight of her perfect handwriting.

 _Potter_

 _Don't wait until Sunday. Because reasons. There was something..._ _I know you heard it in his voice. Something violent._

 _I think I'll spend most of the weekend with my boys._ _Remember the extra-credit essay McGonagall is accepting on Tuesday. Swap on Monday?_

 _Love,_ _Hermione_

 _P.S. After today, I'm on board with this whole 'Drarry' thing. He definitely wants you._

Harry snorted. Then he sighed. A whole weekend without Hermione... He didn't want that. He didn't want to have to live through that. Had they really pushed Jack too far? Did it matter? Jack had tried to _kill_ him. Harry wasn't sorry that all he'd done was _annoy_ him.

He sighed again. Fine. He would allow it to wear off tonight then, and see how Jack acted afterwards. If there was even so much as a comment sent his way; he would reactivate it all, and Professor Flitwick would again be stumped as to how any of it was happening, without there being anyone remotely in the vicinity. Even the magical trace was non-existent.

Luna Lovegood was a genius.

And now Harry was going to have to spend the weekend without his other genius. If he were paying even remotely attention to himself in that moment, he might have noticed the way that he let out another long sigh, folded the note, safely put it away, and then spent the next forty-eight hours doing his level best not to think about the missing brunette witch with the knowing, hazel brown eyes.

* * *

As far as Hallowe'en at Hogwarts usually went, it was a rather quiet affair. Not that Jack or Harry were complaining. Something about Hallowe'en always proved to be sinister whenever the Potter boys were involved.

They'd been that troll in their first year, which could have resulted in something fatal if Hermione hadn't been remembered, and found. Hermione didn't remember much of that night, but she did wake up in the Hospital Wing to hear that the entire school was talking about Jack and Ron facing off against the troll.

In their second year, it was the night that the Chamber of Secrets was opened for the first time. Their third year was, thankfully, more subdued. They were just dealing with the first sighting of the fugitive, Peter Pettigrew, and Ministry-appointed, roaming Dementors, but it wasn't as noteworthy as Hallowe'en in their fourth year. It was the day that Jack's name came flying out of the Goblet of Fire, and things truly went into motion for the resurrection of the Dark Lord.

Hermione made a mental note to ask Harry what truly happened in that graveyard, or even how he ended up there. She suspected that there were things that Jack left out when he retold the story to her and Ron; things that he might have been to ashamed to tell them _before_.

"So that's why we're skipping the Feast."

Hermione's head snapped up. She hadn't heard a word he'd said, and she could tell that he noticed from the look on his face. "Sorry," she said automatically.

Harry tilted his head to the side, eyeing her curiously. "Is everything okay?" he asked.

She nodded. "I'm just a little distracted," she confessed.

His facial expression turned to one of understanding. "Do you ever think about what happened in our first year?" he asked quietly, as if speaking too loud would spook her or something ridiculous like that.

"More often than I'd care to admit," she admitted. "Do you?" She didn't know why she asked the question, but she did.

Harry dropped his gaze. "I wish I'd done more," he said, leaning back, as if he were trying to put as much distance between them as he could. The library was practically empty, mainly because students were gearing up for Hogwarts' famous Hallowe'en Feast.

"More?"

"Maybe if we'd found you sooner, you wouldn't have been knocked unconscious."

Hermione just stared at him, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. She felt like she'd just been knocked unconscious right now. What did he just say?

"But, then again," he continued, completely oblivious to her disposition; "Perhaps it was better that you didn't actually _see_ what happened to the troll. It was rather gross, to be perfectly honest."

Hermione's mouth fell open that bit more. "Harry," she eventually said. "You were there?"

"Where?"

"With the troll."

Harry couldn't stop his frown. "Um, yes."

Her frown suddenly matched his. "Tell me what happened."

He blinked. "You don't know?"

"Tell me."

He shifted in his seat, trying to figure out what she was truly asking him. "Well, I mean, after Quirrell dispensed the news about the troll, and then threw himself to the floor; there was unbridled panic..." he trailed off, not sure exactly what she wanted to hear.

"Did you see the troll?" she asked seriously.

He nodded cautiously. "I'm the one who dragged those two idiots to find you," he said, shaking his head in remembrance. "It was _before_ , you know, when I thought that Jack and I could - " he stopped, not allowing himself to think about the little boy he'd been, who'd held onto the hope that his brother would somehow accept him. "It was a different time."

She blinked several times. "It was you?"

"It was me what? Granger, what's wrong with you? Why are you looking at me like that?"

What _was_ wrong with her? Why was any of this even important? As much as she didn't want to think it, this bit of information _was_. What stemmed that night was the very foundation of her relationship with Jack and Ron. It was _important_. "What really happened that night?" she asked, suddenly desperate to know.

Harry frowned. "Does it matter?"

"Just tell me," she snapped, making him flinch. "Sorry," she said softly. "Please will you just tell me."

He shifted uncomfortably, sensing something desperate in her tone. "Umm, well, you weren't at the Feast that night," he said. "Lavender said you'd spent the afternoon crying in the girls' bathroom after something Ron said." He dropped his gaze. "I don't actually _know_ what he said outside of class, but it had to be something hurtful because you always struck me as a strong person."

"I was twelve," she said. "It was hurtful."

Harry understood that more than she could ever know. "Well, I guess, umm, after Quirrell came in and _fainted_ ; they started leading us out of the Great Hall, and I was just waiting for someone to say something, you know? To remember you. When nobody did, I tried to get Percy's attention, but you remember what he was like. Didn't listen to anything that anyone else said."

Hermione nodded, remembering Percy Weasley, the fifth-year prefect from their first year. He was difficult to forget.

"So I went looking for you, and those two tried to draw attention to me, trying to get me in trouble, so I ended up having to convince them to come with me." He huffed in annoyance at the memory. "I blame them for slowing me down, and we couldn't get to you in time, because you were already unconscious when we found you. I don't actually know if you fainted - which is what I hope - or it the troll actually hurt you."

Hermione pressed her lips together, waiting for more.

Harry suddenly looked nervous, and slightly conflicted. "So, uh, we fought it, and then the teachers arrived, handed out punishments, and awarded points, I suppose. Professor Snape took you to the Infirmary, and then the day after; you were friends with Jack and Ron."

She kept her eyes on him. "You fought the troll?"

"Well, really, we dropped him by using the spell we'd learned in class that day," he said, sounding slightly amused. "The one you tried to teach to Ron."

"I didn't know you were paying attention," she whispered.

He leaned forward. "I'm always paying attention, Granger. I see things, you know. It's the perks and what not."

"The perks of what?"

"Being a wallflower."

Hermione wanted to touch him, maybe just reach across the table and take hold of his hand, just for a moment. She definitely had a lot to think about now, but she didn't want to taint this moment with her conflicted thoughts. "So you think you know things then, huh?" she asked.

He smiled at her. "I thought I knew you, Granger, but you keep surprising me."

She couldn't have stopped her blush even if she tried. This boy was rather special, and she mentally kicked herself for taking so long to get to know him. "Thank you for thinking of me," she said softly.

Harry waited a beat, and then he said: "You're welcome."

They fell into comfortable silence for almost a minute, before Hermione spoke up. "What were you saying about the Feast tonight? Sorry, I _really_ wasn't listening."

"I noticed," he teased. "I was saying that Luna, Neville and I aren't going to be at the Feast tonight, because _plans_."

She raised an eyebrow. "What do you have planned?"

He grinned mischievously, and Hermione's heart skipped a beat. "Oh, Miss Granger, _so many things_."

Hermione forced herself not to comment, even though she wanted to. _This_ was not something she condoned, but she wasn't going to fault him his ways. If she didn't fault Jack; how could she do that to Harry? He actually _had_ reasons. "If you're planning to do something during the Feast, won't you need an alibi?"

"Why, Granger, who said we had anything planned for the Feast?"

Hermione didn't give his cryptic response much thought until she was walking into the Great Hall later that day. As was expected, the Hall was transformed into something truly magical. Hallowe'en was taken very seriously by Hogwarts. Nothing was remotely out of place. She hoped that it stayed that way.

She set off towards the Gryffindor table and took a seat beside Ginny, who was sitting next to Jack. She greeted them somewhat tensely, and then settled in to wait for the Headmaster to address them. Professor Dumbledore usually said the same things every year, save for their fourth year, and this year was no different. What _was_ odd was Professor Umbridge's choosing to say a little speech. Or not that odd at all. The woman was borderline psychotic.

Hermione might have paid attention to whatever she was saying if it were not for the large banner that suddenly fell from the ceiling behind the teachers' table. It wasn't anything sinister. In fact, it was rather sweet. It was a painting of all the ghosts of the Castle, dining at a long table, with a Feast before them and jugs of beer in their hands. It looked to be a grand party.

There was a collective gasp, and then complete silence.

Hermione's eyes automatically moved to seek out Harry, but then she remembered that he wasn't here. Why wouldn't he _want_ to be here for this?

"It's amazing," Ginny said from beside Hermione. "Even the Bloody Baron doesn't look as frightening as he usually does."

Hermione stared at the painting for a long while, even as Umbridge attempted to talk over the sudden burst of murmuring as the students began to discuss the painting. There was a small signature in the bottom right corner: _The Mosstroopers_. Those three.

"It's because they're all smiling," Hermione said to nobody in particular.

"Huh?"

"The ghosts, Gin," she whispered, a smile tugging at the edges of her mouth; "they're smiling."


	7. Dirty Little Secrets

**Chapter Seven: Dirty Little Secrets**

"I think I'm going to quit."

Hermione didn't know what to tell him at first. She half-expected this reaction from him, given the way the evening went. She'd have to be an idiot not to understand why he was feeling this way. She doubted she would feel any different if she were in his position.

"It's the only thing I can do now," Harry continued, as he paced in front of where she was sitting on a large rock by the Black Lake. "I mean, did you _see_ me?"

"I was there," she said softly.

"I was awful! I was bloody terrible, Granger. I'm even disgusted with myself." He stared at his hands as if they'd insulted him somehow. "I have never ever played that horribly in my entire life. I'm just a bloody joke."

Hermione just watched him as he let it all out. Clearly, he needed this.

"I mean, imagine if that was actually a competitive match," he said hoarsely. "I would have lost the entire thing for us. They're all right about me. I just proved it to them. I was never supposed to be on that team. I was never supposed to even play Quidditch. I put my mother through all of this for nothing!"

"It's never been for nothing," she whispered, risking speaking.

"Did you see their faces?" he asked, not having heard her. "Jack and James. They were mightily smug about it, weren't they? They expected me to fail and, look, I did! I'm a fucking failure!" He scrubbed his face roughly. "I'm going to quit. I have to." He dropped down to his knees on the hard ground, and Hermione was up and moving towards him the next moment.

"Hey," she said, dropping to her own knees beside him. She put a hand on his shoulder, prompting him to look at her. "It's just one match, Harry," she said soothingly. "So you played badly. Nobody cares."

" _I_ care."

"Then you're the only one," she pointed out. "It was a warmup game, just to get your feet wet. The fact that you or anybody expected fireworks from you is ridiculous. It will get better, I promise. Just stick with it. Don't _let_ it all be for nothing."

He blinked. "But… but why does it have to be so hard?" he asked softly, his voice thick with emotion.

She couldn't stop herself from hugging him, just managing to enclose him in her arms because of their awkward angle. "I don't know, Harry," she said softly, absently running her one hand up and down his back. "But if it were easy, would it be worth it?"

Harry moved his arms until they were around her waist, and he pulled her into what he had to consider their first proper hug. They'd been only absent touches and sporadic hand patting for comfort, but never hugging, and he just knew that he liked it.

Really, if he had it his way, he probably would never let go.

"Thank you for letting me vent about this," he whispered in her ear, his warm breath ticklish against her skin. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Oh," she admonished playfully, removing herself from his embrace and using his shoulder to help herself stand up. "You'd be fine."

Harry also stood up. "No, Granger, I mean it," he said seriously, his gaze meeting hers.

She stepped forward and hugged him again, her arms closing around his shoulders and holding him close enough to feel the erratic beating of his heart. She guessed that she hugged him because she didn't want to have to deal with the intensity of his eyes or the sincerity in his voice.

When they pulled apart, Harry just about managed to smile at her. "So you don't want me to quit?"

"Please don't," she said. "We can't have gone through all of this just for you to give up now."

"Just say that you want us to win the House Cup, Granger," he teased; "Say it. I won't judge you."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

Harry wasn't the only one who noticed that she didn't once deny it.

* * *

Jack didn't waste any opportunity to remind Harry about his failure of a performance in their warmup game against Hufflepuff, but the younger Gryffindor was doing all he could to ignore it. It helped that Jack hadn't managed to catch the Snitch so, whenever he was getting particularly snarky; Harry would bring it up, and the boy would shut up.

Also, Harry was able to ignore it all because he now _hugged_ Hermione. He couldn't quite get over how it felt to be able to hold her, or to be held by her. Because, as soon as they overcame that physical barrier, Hermione became an entirely different person towards him.

He reasoned that she was already a rather touchy and a little clingy - in a good way - and she'd been holding out on him because they weren't yet close enough.

But now.

He didn't think that they went a full day when she didn't touch a forearm, ruffle his hair or any of those other touches that would have made him purr if he were a cat. She even linked her arm with his when they walked sometimes, and Harry couldn't mistake the warm feeling that always seemed to spread through his chest.

He was feeling a lot of things that didn't make sense to him.

And it just didn't occur to him that Hermione could have been feeling the same things as well.

"Can I ask you a serious question?"

Harry tensed automatically. She looked just about as nervous as he felt by the sound of that question. Oh God, what did she want to know? "What's up?" he asked, sounding much calmer than he felt.

She cleared her throat. "Why do you like Ginny?"

Harry was surprised by the question, and it definitely showed on his face. "Uh..."

"I've always been curious," she elaborated. "I mean, she's my best friend, even though we're not exactly seeing eye to eye right now, and I love her, so I'm just curious if what you see is what I see."

Harry blinked. He did not want to be having this conversation right now. Or at all, for that matter. "Have you ever wanted something that you knew you couldn't have?" he asked, instead of actually responding. "I think it was something like that. Or, at least, a big part of it."

He was, admittedly, a little ashamed of himself, but he was going to tell her the truth. "And she's pretty," he added, which just made him sound even more shallow. "And she likes Quidditch." As if that were better.

He took a breath. "Uh, she's also rather feisty, and I think it's great whenever she's brutally honest, especially with Jack." He went quiet. "I never really entertained the idea that we would ever _realistically_ end up together," he added nervously, running a hand through his hair and bringing it to rest on the back of his neck. "It was just a thought. A bit of a childish dream, really. She's far into the folklore of the Boy-Who-Lived, isn't she?"

Even if it were actually a question; Hermione wouldn't have responded.

Harry met her gaze. "What about you and Jack?"

Her eyes widened. "What about me and Jack?"

"I sometimes see you looking at him," he said, fighting the slight twist of pain he felt in his chest as he said the words.

"I wasn't looking at Jack," she eventually said, choosing to be truthful with him as well.

He blinked. "Ron?"

Despite herself, she blushed. "Are you surprised?"

He _was_ , though he didn't say so. "I just always thought..." he trailed off. "Do you still like him?"

"Do you still like Ginny?"

Nope. He was not going to answer that question. "So you've never liked Jack then?"

Hermione leaned forward. "I think I might have, once upon a time," she said quietly, looking oddly conflicted about something.

She still wasn't sure how to feel about the news that the troll incident hadn't happened as she'd been told.

"He's rather fanciable when he's not being - "

" _Jack Potter_."

She giggled for a moment, before she turned deathly serious. "A girl like me doesn't get the hero, Harry."

There was so much he wanted to say in rebuttal to those words, but he didn't think that she needed a lecture about how amazing he thought she was. Instead, he raised an eyebrow and said: "So then you should go for the much better looking brother instead, shouldn't you?"

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. He sounded so serious, but there was obvious humour in his features. "What makes you think you're better looking?" she asked.

"I'm insulted that you even have to ask that question," he said playfully. "Have you looked at me?"

She laughed out loud, feeling her body relax after the slightly uncomfortable topic about potential love interests. "I have," she said.

"And?"

"And what?"

"Am I handsome or what?"

"Is that what your mother tells you?"

He grinned at her. "Every day."

"She's your mum; she has no choice."

He clutched at his chest dramatically. "Ouch, Granger; you wound me."

"I'm merely telling the truth, Potter," she said. "Would you want me to lie to you?"

"No," he said seriously. "Tell me no lies, Granger, and I'll do the same."

She swallowed thickly, her gaze barely able to meet his. It amazed her how quickly he could move from one extreme to the other. In the blink of an eye, he went from playful to severe, and her heart even skipped a beat at his tone of voice.

"Okay, Harry," she said simply.

He studied her for a moment, before his face broke out into a disarming smile. "You and Ron... Definitely didn't see that coming."

Hermione did the mature thing and stuck her tongue out at him. "I don't feel that way anymore," she admitted, answering the question she hadn't responded to earlier.

He blinked. "You don't?"

"Didn't someone say that I should be going for the better looking brother instead?" she asked, trying to sound amused, even though her heart was thumping wildly in her chest.

His grin was back in full force. "Sounds like a smart guy."

She rolled her eyes. "He definitely likes to think so."

* * *

Harry was a basket of nerves before his first competitive game as a Gryffindor Lion. He actually felt quite sick. His stomach was churning dangerously, and he was rather terrified that he would fail. Maybe he'd get hit by a Bludger in the first minute, and get knocked out and not remember a thing.

Harry cast a nervous glance the twins' way. They weren't paying any attention to him, which was a good thing. As much as they probably hated him - especially after the way Angelina and Alicia Spinnet turned them down - everyone on the team wanted to beat Slytherin.

That much, at least, they could all agree on.

Angelina moved through her team, checking all their robes and their brooms. She passed on last-minute instructions and advice, and actually smiled when she reached Harry. "I see you've got a new broom."

Harry nodded, looking down at the broom that Sirius sent for him the day before. He'd gone out on it after curfew the night before, just to familiarise himself with the handling before the game. "Hopefully I can keep your Seeker away from this one," he muttered.

"You better play better than you did in our warmup game," she said, eyeing him critically.

"Yes, ma'am."

She laughed. "It will probably be overwhelming, but I suggest you enjoy it. You'll play worse if you take it all too seriously, all right?"

He nodded, suddenly not trusting himself to speak.

Angelina just pat him on the shoulder, and then continued on her way, leaving him to his thoughts. It had been a bit of a whirlwind of a morning, and he couldn't help his nervousness.

He knew that his mother was coming to watch him. She'd initially been reluctant, given her memories of James Potter, but Sirius was coming with her. Harry would always be more important than her memories of James, and Lily needed her son to know that.

"Hey you," Hermione said, getting his attention.

Harry startled at the sound of her voice, and then turned his gaze on the one person he suddenly knew he needed to see. "Hey," he breathed; "what are you doing in here?"

Hermione decided to ignore his question. Was she really going to tell him that she'd snuck in to wish him and Jack good luck, and probably warn them _not_ to kill each other?

No, no she wasn't.

"How are you feeling?" she asked instead.

Harry stepped out of line to talk to her. "I'm a little nervous," he admitted in a whisper. "What if I play terribly again?"

"Then you'll play terribly," she said coyly. "But you'll have to play to find out, won't you?"

Harry just looked at her, trying to use her presence to calm his racing heart. _Naturally_ , it wasn't working. These days, her presence only managed to make him more nervous. Something was changing, and he was powerless to stop it.

"Harry Potter, you are probably the world's best Keeper," she said, grinning at him. "I know you're going to do great."

"How do you know that?"

"Haven't you got people to impress?" she asked, giving him his favourite small smile. It was _his_ , he was sure. That smile belonged to him. "Now, I believe in you and I'll be cheering for you."

He smiled widely, feeling his heart simultaneously speed up and go still. Essentially, it _hiccupped_.

"You're going to do great," she said again, needing him to know; "because I believe in you, Mr Potter."

Harry wanted to say something, or possibly even do something, but he remained completely still.

"Now go and show Slytherin just what you're made of."

He raised an eyebrow.

"What?" she asked innocently. "I want Gryffindor to win."

"Since when have you cared?"

She giggled. "Just win, Potter. We're all counting on you."

"I thought you were supposed to be making me feel better," he grumbled good-naturedly.

"Aren't I?"

He shook his head. "Not really, no."

Hermione took a deep breath, before she stepped forward and did something she'd never done before. She leaned towards him and gently kissed his cheek. "Does that make you feel better?" she asked when she pulled back.

Harry's eyes were open wide, and he didn't know how to respond.

"Thought so," she said, grinning at him. "Recover quickly, Potter," she practically sang; "I don't want to be held responsible for breaking our newest Keeper before his first big game."

Hermione didn't even give him a chance to respond, even though she suspected that he wouldn't have actually said anything. He looked too shocked, really, and she was mightily smug about it. She just gave him one last smile, and then proceeded to walk away.

Harry was still smiling as he stepped back into line and watched as Hermione made her way further up the corridor. He was aware of the fact that she stopped at Jack's side, clearly wishing him luck as well, but he found that it didn't really bother him as much as he thought it would.

She'd come for both of them. Not just him, and not just Jack.

Because, really, Harry didn't dream of monopolising Hermione's time or her relationships. He might hate her friends, Ron less so than Jack, for obvious reasons, but he wasn't going to bring it up at every opportunity.

He supposed that _that_ was a key difference between the two brothers. He respected her decisions. She had to have important reasons for why she did everything that she did.

Or misguided reasons, but he wasn't going to mention it.

If anything, he knew that her relationships with Jack and with Ginny were strained. He wasn't sure what was happening between her and Ginny, but he guessed that Hermione was giving both of them ample opportunity to, what, redeem themselves?

Harry definitely wasn't holding his breath when it came to Jack.

Hermione passed by him again on her way out, and she gently touched his gloved hand, sending a shock of electricity through him. She hadn't even touched his skin, and yet he _felt_ it. She smiled happily at him, and then she disappeared from sight.

If Harry hadn't been so bewildered by her presence; he might have noticed the heated look he was receiving from Jack. He _also_ might have noticed the way that Jack's eyes followed Hermione as she left.

"All right!" Angelina screamed, from somewhere in front of Harry. "Everyone, move into position; they're about to announce us."

Harry took a deep, calming breath before he mounted his broom and waited. The wait was short, and then he was shooting into the sky, the sound of his name ringing around the pitch. _Harry Potter, Gryffindor's newest Keeper!_

Everything that happened after the whistle blew was a blur. Harry gave into the adrenalin pumping through his veins and relaxed his body enough to actually enjoy himself. He kept his eyes open for any and all dangers, including ones coming from his own teammates.

He was forced to avoid several Bludgers sent his way by the Slytherin Beaters. They actually set their sights on him rather early in the match, when they realised that he was the one truly keeping them from scoring as many goals as they usually did.

In the end, Jack didn't catch the Snitch. Draco Malfoy did. But he'd caught it too soon, and Gryffindor still ended up winning the match. It was a strange win, and the House wasn't sure _how_ to celebrate it. Or even if they should. They'd won the game because of Harry and even those who didn't truly follow Quidditch _knew_ it.

With the match over and most of the players gathering on the grass below him, Harry took a moment to calm down. His heart was still thumping in his chest and he could barely catch his breath. This happened. He won in his first Quidditch match. No, he played _brilliantly_ in his first Quidditch match.

Eventually Harry also flew down to the grass, where he was congratulated by several Gryffindors, who were too much of Quidditch fans to maintain their misplaced grudges against the other Potter _today_. Harry mumbled his thank yous as he searched for someone familiar.

It wasn't difficult for Harry to locate his mother. Her shock of red hair was unmistakable, but there was the mess of Sirius Black's shaggy hair that really sealed it.

As soon as they found one another in the crowd that descended on the pitch; Harry was buried in a dual hug that hurt more than getting hit in the face with a Quaffle - which had actual happened a few times, when his arms hadn't been quick enough. Anything to stop Slytherin from scoring, right?

"Mum, Sirius," he protested, trying to get out of their mutual grasp. "I'm all sweaty."

"I don't care," Lily said, squeezing him once more before she did eventually release him. "It was terrifying watching you, but you were amazing."

Harry couldn't stop his grin.

Sirius ruffled his hair. "The greatest Keeping display I've ever seen," he said, puffing out his chest. "I like to think I had a little something to do with it."

"More than a little something," Harry said. "And thank you for the broom. It made my job a lot easier, that's for sure."

"It wasn't the broom, Harry."

All heads turned to their collective right where Hermione, Luna and Neville were approaching them, all sporting massive grins. Harry's own smile merely widened, because it was Hermione who'd spoken.

Harry was quick to do the introductions for Hermione, Sirius and his mother. Sirius raised an eyebrow when Harry referred to her as Granger, and he made a mental note to ask his godson about it at a later date.

Lily watched the interaction curiously. Of course, she recognised Hermione as the girl from the Hospital Wing from _that_ day, and she was the girl she'd once discussed with Luna. But to see her with Harry was something entirely eye-opening. There was a new light shining in his eyes and he just seemed less burdened somehow.

She wouldn't go so far as to say he was _happy_ , because life wasn't that kind, but he was definitely somewhere in the ballpark. Especially when he was smiling like that.

Hermione playfully ran her own hand through his damp hair, forcing him to look at her. "Didn't I tell you that you'd be great or what?"

"Yes, by all means, Granger, take all the credit if you must."

She laughed. "I wasn't seeking your permission."

Harry looked at her for a moment, his eyes softening. She was here. She was here _with him_ , instead of being with Jack and, as much as he hated to think it; it meant everything to him.

To anyone watching, it was something more than an intimate moment.

Lily and Sirius exchanged a look. Only Sirius was smiling. Lily, admittedly, was worried, given that Harry told her that Hermione was Jack's friend. Even though she'd encouraged her son to be friends with her; it looked like something _more_ was happening.

Lily's eyes drifted to Luna, who looked rather engaged in whatever Harry was saying to his little group of friends. For a while there, Lily'd been convinced that her son and his little blond friend would find their way to each other, but the content look on Luna's face made her think that that wouldn't be the case.

"Stop analysing the teenagers," Sirius whispered to Lily, and she turned to look at him. "Analyse your own love-life," he teased.

"What love-life?" she countered lightly.

"Exactly."

"Hey, Mum?"

Lily turned her attention to Harry. "What's up, Bud?"

He grinned at her. "We want to show you something," he said. "Do you mind coming with us?"

Lily looked from Harry, to Sirius, and then back to her son. "Just me?"

"Just you," he clarified.

Sirius exaggerated a gasp. "Oh, I see how it is," he said playfully.

"Accept it, Sirius," Harry said, reaching for his mother's hand. "I love her more than you."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "That is a truly ambiguous sentence, mister."

Harry matched his facial expression with an eyebrow raise of his own. "Is it now?"

Sirius was robbed of a response, as Harry suddenly tugged on Lily's hand, and then mother, son and two best friends were scurrying away, leaving Sirius and Hermione behind. There was an opportunity for them to descend into awkward silence, but Sirius didn't let it happen.

"Do you know what that's all about?" he asked the young witch.

Hermione felt a little silly that she was nervous. She'd _known_ that Harry wanted to show his mother something, and she'd even volunteered to stay with Sirius so that he didn't have to watch what he was saying in front of the prefect. But now, here she was with Sirius Black; a man she'd heard _a lot_ about, from Jack and from James.

"Umm," she sounded, absently taking a step towards him. "My guess is that he's explaining to her the intense Charm work that went into their latest pranking escapades."

Sirius nodded thoughtfully. "And you got stuck with the old man because...?"

"I'm a prefect," she said; "and I don't normally approve of what they do. Plausible deniability and all that."

"You said normally," he pointed out. "When _have_ you approved?"

Despite herself, Hermione blushed. "I suspect you'll get a kick out of the fact that it was to do with Jack."

"I'm insulted by that," he said, lifting his chin slightly.

Hermione might have taken him seriously, if it wasn't for the smile on his face. He really was rather handsome. She shook her head. What was she even thinking? "Didn't Harry tell you about it?"

"Unfortunately, no," he answered. "His mother gave me strict instructions not to encourage him."

She laughed lightly. "I'm surprised you listened."

He bent down slightly and dropped the volume of his voice. "See, the thing is, between you and me, Granger, I'm trying to convince Lily to go out with me, you see, so I have to be on my best behaviour at all times."

Hermione blinked. "You mean, umm, you're not already together?"

"No," Sirius said, frowning slightly. "What makes you think that?" At her lack of response, he asked another question: "Is that what James told you?"

She swallowed thickly. "He thinks you've been together for years," she explained.

He nodded thoughtfully. "So _that's_ why he hates me so much." There were other reasons, of course, but he didn't think now was the time to voice them. She didn't need to know the intricacies of his non-relationship with the Lord Potter.

"It could also be because you're the father to Harry that he could never be," Hermione said without even thinking it through. When she realised what she'd said, she clamped her hand over her mouth.

Sirius laughed out loud. "I _knew_ I was going to like you," he declared.

"I'm so sorry," she said hurriedly. "That was - goodness, I don't even know what that was." She buried her face in her hands. "I'm so sorry."

"It's all right," he assured her.

Hermione dropped her hands eventually, and bravely met Sirius' grey eyes. "You should know that he adores you," she said seriously. "The way he talks about you; it's easy to tell. He looks up to you, admires you for all you've done for him and for his mother. He wants to be great, you know, so he can pay you back somehow, I think. He wants to make you proud, so that you don't think that you've wasted your life trying to raise a failure of a kid that isn't even yours."

Really, Sirius hadn't expected her to be so candid with him. How old was she again?

Hermione took a deep breath. "So, you know, if ever you think you're not appreciated by him; just know that you are, even if he doesn't say it loud."

Sirius fought off his emotions. "Are you speaking from experience there?" he asked curiously.

Hermione didn't answer his question. There were things that she suspected only she knew about Harry, and she wasn't about to divulge them without his permission. "Maybe you should get a haircut," she said instead.

Sirius sputtered. He definitely wasn't expecting to hear her say that. "Excuse me?"

She smiled slightly. "A haircut. Drop the shaggy look as an experiment and see if Harry's mum responds favourably to it."

He frowned. "You think I need a makeover?"

"I _think_ that she probably associates the look that you have right now with some of the harder years of her life; the years when she tried her hardest not to need you or rely on you," she said. "She needs to forget that she doesn't have to just need you anymore. She can _want_ you as well."

He couldn't understand how he'd gone from coming to watch his godson play Quidditch to getting possible relationship advice from said godson's friend. Future girlfriend? Possibly. He took a deep breath. "Why does Harry call you Granger?" he asked, changing the subject.

She automatically smiled, whether at the mention of Harry or at the question; neither of them knew. "I suspect it's because he's a truly stubborn wizard," she said.

"Or he just likes the sound of your name," Sirius offered cheekily. "Harry Granger does have a nice ring to it."

"No it doesn't," Hermione automatically said, a blush rising up her neck. She'd given it some thought.

Sirius suspected that there was more going on between his godson and the young witch, but he didn't think that even they knew what that was. As tempting as it was, he wasn't going to push for answers to questions that they weren't even asking of themselves. As much as he wanted to.

"Can I ask you a question?" Hermione suddenly asked.

Sirius chuckled. "And where exactly were your manners when you were insulting the way I look five minutes ago?"

She didn't shy away from his gaze. "Nonsense. It was barely two minutes ago," she said so seriously that Sirius released a full-body belly-laugh that made several heads turn their way.

Including the head of James Potter and his brood.

They descended on the pair rather quickly, preventing Hermione from asking whatever question she wanted to ask Sirius.

"Hermione," Jack said, moving to stand at her side. "What are you doing talking to _him_?"

The witch stiffened at the malice in Jack's tone. "We're discussing the win," she said curtly. "Harry played quite well, didn't he?"

"If that's what you want to call it."

It was James who'd spoken, and all heads turned towards him. His wife and daughter were standing about a metre behind him, choosing not to engage in whatever _conversation_ was going to occur between the older wizards.

"Hello, Sirius," James said tensely. "Hermione," he added, his voice sweeter. "We were waiting for you."

Hermione tried to smile at him. "I was going to head that way in a bit," she said. "Just keeping Lord Black here company until Harry gets back."

"And where has Gryffindor's newest Keeper gone to?" James asked.

Hermione's voice remained a monotone as she replied. "I believe he's showing something to his mother."

James looked thrown for a moment. "Lily's here then? I didn't think she would come."

"And why's that?" Sirius asked.

"Oh, I'm sure you know why, Sirius," James said, looking at his once best friend. "This place holds _many_ memories."

Sirius stiffened, and Hermione watched his jaw clench dangerously. Sirius seemed to notice her look of concern, so he turned his attention to Jack. "Unfortunate you didn't get the Snitch this time," he said, sounding sincere. "That Malfoy spawn is probably going to laud it over you but, between you and me, it was a fluke."

Jack blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting Sirius to talk to him with any form of kindness.

James put a hand on his son's shoulder. "Don't talk to my son," he said.

"Which one?"

James clenched his jaw. "Sirius."

"Prongs."

James glanced around.

Sirius smiled, somewhat surprised by James' reaction. "Hah."

"Sirius," James warned.

"Oh, I'm sorry there, Senior Auror Potter," he said, grinning widely. "Did you say something about being an unregistered Animagus?"

Jack looked up at his father. "Dad, what is he talking about?"

"Nothing," James said, squeezing Jack's shoulder until it hurt. "And what about you then?" he snapped.

Sirius' smile only grew. "Oh no no, I'm not that stupid," he said hauntingly. "I've had the wonderful Lily Evans in my life since you decided she wasn't worth your precious time anymore. Do you really think she would allow me to exist unregistered after all these years?"

"Enjoying my seconds there, are you?"

Hermione couldn't help her gasp.

Sirius' hand twitched, wanting to draw his wand. Then he relaxed and smiled once more, his eyes dropping to Jack. "Has your father ever told you just how _close_ your mother and I were in school?" he asked sweetly, and the meaning wasn't lost on anyone.

Jack's eyes widened, and he looked up at James. "Dad?"

James glared at Sirius. "We should go."

"Yes you should, before Harry and Lily come back," Sirius said coldly. "I don't want you talking to _my_ son either."

The words sparked something in James; something dangerous. It never would have occurred to anyone that that _something_ would be carried with him until the one moment he chose to release it.

Invariably ruining them all.

* * *

Unaware of the confrontation that was occurring on the Quidditch pitch, Harry, Luna and Neville were each talking a mile a minute _at_ Lily. She'd tried to keep up, catching as much as she could. She laughed at all the right moments, and asked questions of their spellwork.

"But you're done now?" she eventually asked, after they'd exhausted themselves.

"With Jack, at least."

Lily's head snapped towards her son. "And just what is that supposed to mean, young man?"

He locked his own green eyes on hers. "I'm not the only one of us who has a bully," he said seriously. "It's just that mine is sometimes murderous."

She had no response for that. She wasn't able to explain to her son why Jack Potter got away with everything that he did, without explaining _everything_ that came with it.

"We should head back," Luna said, her voice sounding oddly unsteady, as if she was picking up on something.

Harry heard it in her tone. "Luna?"

She shook her head. "We should go."

Harry led the way back to the Quidditch pitch where they found Hermione and Sirius exactly where they'd left them. He couldn't mistake that something _felt_ different about the air. "What happened?" he practically demanded.

"Just a little run-in with James," Sirius said, looking at Lily's concerned look. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

Harry's eyes were on Hermione, as he moved to stand in front of her. Closer than was strictly necessary. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly, his fingers brushing against her cheek.

She looked at him through her lashes, somewhat surprised by the emotion she could hear in his voice. "I'm okay," she lied.

He raised an eyebrow, just waiting.

"It was ugly," she eventually said. "But I'm okay, really, Harry. Jack was just - " she halted. "And James... I'm okay. I promise."

Harry didn't believe her, but he let it go, and turned towards the group once more. He hadn't even noticed that he'd cut them off as he queried after Hermione's well-being. For a moment, they'd disappeared into their own world, but now they were back.

Eventually, the _conversation_ with James and Jack was forgotten, and the six of them spent an obscene amount of time out there on that pitch, easily discussing too many things. At some point, they'd even settled down on the grass, merely extending the visit.

Hermione excused herself first, and ended up taking Luna and Neville with her, leaving Harry with his _parents_ , in all intents and purposes.

"Thank you for coming," Harry said, when they all stood to say their goodbyes. "I know it wasn't easy."

Sirius just pulled him into a hug, and then he was walking away, giving him a moment alone with his mother.

Lily buried him in her own hug, squeezing him tight. She couldn't stop herself from imparting some wisdom, and he had to stop her before she started on a full-blown lecture. They were walking towards where Sirius had stopped when she said words that confused him.

"Just so you know, Harry, not that you need it or anything, but I do approve."

Harry frowned, clearly not understanding. "Of what?"

" _Granger_."

Harry couldn't hide his blush, but he still ended up shaking his head. "It's not like that between us, Mum," he explained.

"She obviously cares about you."

That just made him blush that bit more, and he looked away for a moment before his gaze settled on his mother's face again. " _And_ she's Ginny's best friend."

Lily's eyes widened as she realised what that meant. "Does she know about your, umm, little crush?"

Harry nodded.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

He sighed. "Yeah, Mum, me too."

* * *

Hermione waited until the next day to tell Harry about the conversation she'd witnessed between James and Sirius. She'd spent the night mulling over it, trying to see where all the hatred was stemming from.

She went so far as to think that someone had cast spells on both men to make them despise each other so much. It was a reasonable thought, given the way they'd been so determined to hurt each other with their words.

She was hesitant to think that that was how Jack and Harry would end up.

"Does that mean - " Harry stopped. "Do you think - " he stopped again. He took a deep breath. "I mean, I _know_ that Sirius and my mum and James and Jack's mother all went to school together. My mum was roommates with Jack's mother. I think they were really close."

"It takes a different kind of man to cheat on his girlfriend - or fiancé in this case - with her best friend," Hermione said darkly.

"I think the word 'man' is being too generous there, Granger."

She nodded in agreement, as she continued to search the bookshelves for the specific book that she was looking for. While she concentrated, the tip of her tongue absently stuck itself out, and all Harry could do was stare at her.

"How do you spell the author's surname again?"

Harry glanced at the piece of parchment in his hand. "Tittensor. T-I-T-T - "

She cut him off. "Two Ts," she said, groaning in annoyance. "And bravo for not giggling like a schoolboy when you spelt that out loud." She raked her eyes over the shelf, and then grinned. "Ah hah!"

He watched as she retrieved the book and then immediately opened it to the index at the back. He was fascinated by the way her eyes scanned the words for what she was looking for. Her tongue was sticking out again, and he had a wild thought about what he could probably do to that tongue, which he quickly shut down.

"What was that?" she asked, glancing at him.

"Hmm?"

"Did you say something?"

He blinked rapidly. _Did he_? "No."

She gave him a curious look, but eventually returned to scanning the index.

Harry let out a breath. He should not be thinking about Hermione's tongue, or what he could possibly do to it. What was wrong with him?

Hermione eventually huffed and snapped the book shut. She somewhat violently returned the book to its position on the shelf and then, as if she were just catching herself; she ran a soothing hand along the book's spine as a silent apology.

Harry couldn't help but imagine what it would feel like to have her hand running down _his_ spine.

Oh my God. _Potter, get it together_.

"What's the next name on the list?" she asked, and Harry welcomed the opportunity to focus on something else.

They worked through the list rather diligently, and Hermione ended up with four books that Harry carried back to his table. _Their_ table.

They settled in to their work once more, and Harry was able to pay attention to the ingredients needed for brewing the potion they would _hopefully_ be studying in the upcoming week. Professor Snape liked to keep them on their toes, so it was plausible that he would surprise them with something different.

"Why did you tell me about Sirius and James' conversation?" he asked after a while.

"I thought you'd want to know," she said, not looking up.

"But _why_?"

"You deserve to know," she said, her gaze finally meeting his. "I tell you things, Harry."

"About me?"

"And about me."

He smiled warmly. "I've always been able to tell you things," he said in response. "You're easy to talk to; I don't know what it is. I just, I trust you, and I trust that you'll keep my secrets."

"Because you'll keep mine?"

He raised an eyebrow. " _What secrets_?"


	8. Please Don't Go

**Chapter Eight: Please Don't Go**

"What is she talking about?" Jack whispered, drawing the attention of both Hermione and Ron, who were sitting on either side of him. "Is she actually making sense? Am I the only one who isn't understanding?"

Hermione cast a look around the room, taking in the blank faces of her fellow students. She was especially amused by the look of actual shock on Harry's face. "It's not just you," she whispered back to him.

"We're all going to die when Voldemort comes for us," he replied darkly.

Hermione glanced nervously at their DADA Professor, but she was still rambling on about yet another Law that the Ministry was looking to enforce. They were truly inept sometimes. How could they be so against the idea of Dark forces, after everything that'd been happening lately?

Hermione wasn't actually paying attention to Umbridge, though she was still making notes. Even if she didn't necessarily _agree_ with the syllabus, it didn't mean that she wasn't going to learn it.

Despite her misgivings about the teachings, she still wanted her O.W.L.

By the time the class was drawing to a close, Jack was literally shaking in his seat beside her. His temper was proving to be a problem these days and, if he didn't put a lid on it, he was going to end up with another detention.

At least Professor McGonagall was insisting on his detentions being held by their Head of House. Hermione suspected that that was at James Potter's 'request.' Not that she blamed him. Something about Umbridge was just _terrifying_. Honestly, she looked like a pure sadist.

Perhaps James was just able to recognise the traits in others of his kind.

Even Jack didn't deserve to be left alone with her.

Hermione sighed heavily, chancing a glance Jack's way again. Things were off between them, that much she knew; and she couldn't tell if it was something _she_ was doing, or him. And if it was her; was she doing it on purpose? Was it because of the truth of the troll incident? Could she really just throw away everything that came _afterwards_ , just because the beginning was different? What kind of _friend_ did that make her?

Did it even make them friends?

Jack also seemed particularly _off_ ever since the last Quidditch match. She suspected it was to do with what was revealed in James and Sirius' conversation, but Jack wasn't talking about it. A quick question to Ginny and Ron, and she knew that she wasn't the only one being shut out of whatever was going on in his head.

Hermione was worried. Internalising things was never a good idea when it came to Jack Potter.

Harry, of course, was handling it all a bit better. He seemed almost amused by it all, as if he found it so terribly funny that there was just so much more to the triangle - turned square - of the Potter parents. Even though it didn't appear to be _bothering_ him; he still didn't actively talk about it. At least not with her.

She also didn't think that he talked to his mother about it. How does one even begin that conversation?

When the class ended, everyone rushed to pack up their things, clearly in a hurry to get out of the woman's classroom before, well, _anything_. She was just full of surprises. Hermione put her things away as neatly as she could, and the three of them started out of the classroom, chatting quietly.

"I'll be right back," Hermione suddenly said to her boys, before she ran ahead to catch up with Harry.

Jack clenched his jaw as he watched the two of them interact ahead of him and Ron. He watched with narrowed eyes as Hermione touched Harry's arm, as she leaned into him, as she whispered something in his ear, and as she laughed out loud at whatever he replied.

It grated on his nerves. Hermione was _his_ friend. Hermione was _his_.

And yet she was still standing and talking to his brother.

Jack watched as Hermione checked her watch, glanced Jack and Ron's way and then shook her head. Jack closed his fists tightly, his fingernails digging into his palms. He'd be an idiot not to know what _that_ meant. Was she now having to 'make time' for her friends?

Hermione said something else to him, and Harry smiled widely.

This was not okay. None of this was okay.

Hermione squeezed Harry's arm once more, before she turned and made her way back to Jack and Ron, a small smile on her smile. A secret smile. A content smile. And it burned Jack that Harry Potter put it there.

"Sorry about that," Hermione said as she reached them. "Thank you for waiting."

Ron grumbled something, but Jack said nothing as his eyes followed Harry's retreating back. He made a vow then that he would _talk_ to Harry. The boy had to know that Hermione was _his_. His Quidditch spot was something else, but this was Hermione.

"Where are we working?" she asked.

"The Courtyard, please," Ron said. "The sun is _actually_ shining today. Which means that the bloody snow is on its way. Who's to say when Scotland will be kind to us again?"

Jack couldn't bring himself to relax. "You two go on," he said. "I have to get something from the Tower. I'll meet you out there in a bit."

Hermione looked at him curiously. Maybe she could hear the lie in his voice but, even if she did, she said nothing. He'd noticed that she didn't _try_ as hard anymore, to be around for him, as if there was something sitting on her brain that was making her question her friendship with him. It was true that she'd never approved of what he did to Harry, and he'd had to be rather sneaky about getting things done, but he just couldn't understand what had changed.

 _Why_ did any of it matter _now_?

Jack watched as Hermione hooked her arm with Ron's and then led the redhead away. He couldn't mistake the feeling that he was losing her. Or, really, that he'd already lost her. No. Harry Potter had _taken_ her from him. Or he _was_ taking her, and Jack was going to put a stop to it.

He wasted little more time as he took off in the direction that Harry had gone. Jack was walking much faster than Harry, so he caught up to him quickly enough.

"Oi, Black?"

Harry stopped walking mid-step, and turned slowly. There was no use trying to ignore him. "What can I do for you, Jack?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in a way that Jack knew Hermione did. Just how much time had they been spending together?

"You can stay away from Hermione; that's what you can do."

Harry hadn't been expecting that, and his frown showed it.

"She's _my_ friend, you hear, and I want you to stay away from her," Jack continued. "Do I make myself clear?"

Harry watched several emotions flicker across Jack's face, all of them very confusing. "Does Hermione know that you're here?" he asked.

"Tell me that you'll stay away," he said coldly.

"I can't do that," Harry said seriously. "The reason you're here right now is the reason why I can't do what you're asking. _If_ you were actually asking."

"I'm not asking."

"I thought so."

"What do you want?" he spat. "You've already taken my Quidditch team; you're taking my best friend! What do you want? My girlfriend? My parents?"

Harry said nothing. Why would Jack think that he would want anything _from_ him? Why would he believe that? Was that what James told him?

"Stay away from Hermione."

"No."

Jack grit his teeth. " _What do you want_?"

"What do _you_ want?"

"I've already told you," he hissed. "Stay away from my best friend."

"But why?"

"Why what?"

"Why should I?"

"Because she's _mine,_ " he growled.

Harry blinked.

Then his eyes widened, as realisation hit him. Jack's _best friend_. Those were the wrong words, weren't they? Jack meant something else, didn't he? Harry stepped back, a little surprised. "Oh."

Jack pressed his lips together, immediately knowing that he'd revealed much more than he intended to.

Harry wasn't sure what to say, so he said nothing. He waited barely a moment more, before he turned abruptly and hurried down the corridor. What just happened? What _was_ that?

He definitely had a lot to think about now.

Harry, admittedly, felt rather panicked. What was he supposed to do with all this information? Did Hermione know? Did Ginny? What was supposed to happen now? What did he _want_ to happen now? Could he talk to his mother about it? Maybe Luna had answers for him. Harry even let out a small chuckle when he thought of Neville possibly giving him advice.

Without Harry being entirely conscious of what he was doing; he started to avoid Hermione. He just couldn't be around her without hearing Jack say that she was his. Even though Jack hadn't explicitly said _anything_ , Harry just _knew_. This was about so much more than a best friend.

This wasn't what Harry wanted. He didn't _want_ her to be Jack's. He didn't want her to be anyone's. It was the last thing he wanted. Just thinking about it made his heart twist painfully, and he just wouldn't allow himself to understand _why_.

"It's Wednesday," Luna said, casting a look around the library. "Why isn't Hermione sitting with us?"

Neville looked from Luna to Harry, clearly expecting some kind of response from the Gryffindor.

"She's not coming today," Harry said simply.

"Why?"

Harry didn't respond.

"What did you do?" Neville asked.

Before Harry could respond - probably to defend himself in some way - Luna spoke up. "It's not Harry's fault," she said, sensing something in his demeanour. "Jack's just managed to get in his head."

Harry let out a long sigh. Jack _was_ in his head, and it was irritating the crap out of him.

Luna turned her attention to Harry. "What did he say to you? What _could_ he have possibly said to make you doubt your relationship with Hermione?"

He waited less than a beat, before he was telling them everything that happened. Then, after he received shocked, blank looks, he continued, expressing his own thoughts: "What if I'm just projecting?" he asked. "What if everything I'm feeling is a result of the fact that it _does_ get under Jack's skin so much?" He shook his head. "I won't do that to Granger. I _won't_ put her in the middle of whatever the hell I have going on with my brother. She deserves better than that."

He fell silent. "It's just that the thought, _even the act_ , of staying away from her is making me physically ill. It _hurts_ , and I just - " he stopped abruptly, and sighed heavily.

Luna and Neville exchanged a knowing look.

"You like her, don't you?" Luna asked.

Harry's eyes widened. "What?"

"You properly like _like_ her, don't you?"

He swallowed. This was probably something that he could tell his best friends. He _should_ be able to tell them these things. "Maybe I do."

"You should tell her."

He shook his head. "I can't do that."

Luna frowned. "Because of Jack?"

"No," he was quick to say, and it was the truth. This was never going to be about Jack. "Because of _her_. I know what will happen."

"What?"

"She's going to freak out and run, Luna. I know it." He shook his head. "She doesn't know - she doesn't think that she gets to be wanted, you know? Her parents have really done some damage, and she won't accept it. She'll run."

"So?" Luna asked, her eyes narrowing. " _If_ that happens, then you run _after her_. It's really simple."

Harry looked a bit shell-shocked.

Luna returned her attention to her homework. "Boys," she muttered under her breath. "Completely useless."

Harry looked at Neville, who just shrugged at first. Then: "I think you should tell her," he said. "Jack doesn't fit into the equation. If he has twisted feelings about her, then that's his problem. Tell her how _you_ feel and see what she says."

"But it really isn't that simple," Harry countered. Because it really wasn't. There was so much to think about; so many things to consider. They couldn't just have a happy, teenage romance. That wasn't how their lives worked. It definitely wasn't how _his_ did.

Harry sighed again, and then leaned back in his chair. He knew he wouldn't be able to get back to his work now.

He liked Hermione.

What was he supposed to do with that?

Harry wanted to ask Hermione about it. She would know what to make of all of this. Did _she_ like him? Sometimes he thought that she did. Like whenever her hand touched the hair at the nape of his neck, or whenever her eyes softened merely at the sight of him. But that could just be who she was as a person. He didn't think that she treated him any differently to anyone else.

Did she?

His head was spinning by the time Luna suggested that they start heading to the Great Hall for supper. He wasn't feeling very hungry, but he still packed up his things and followed them out of the library. They headed towards the Ravenclaw table when they arrived, but Harry really wasn't paying attention.

He barely ate.

And then he was heading up to the Astronomy Tower, _alone_. He needed some time to think things through. But think what through exactly?

Hermione Granger. Hermione Granger. Hermione Granger. How do you solve a problem like Hermione Granger?

The more he thought about it; the worse he felt. He _liked_ her. That changed everything. Or nothing, if he chose to do nothing about it. But _could_ he do nothing about it? Did he even want to?

Harry lay flat on his back and stared up at the ceiling, his heart thumping in his chest. He could tell her what he was feeling, and they could probably talk about it. She would listen to him, surely, and she would _understand_. But the last thing he wanted to do was make her feel like she had to choose. It was probably easier when they were still getting to know each other, but now it was different.

Because he _liked_ her.

It was late - a few minutes before curfew - when Harry finally made it back to the Gryffindor Common Room. He was expecting to find it empty, but he had to know that she would be waiting for him. He'd given her enough reason to, hadn't he?

"You've been avoiding me."

Harry just stared at her, taking in the sight of her in the dim light. She was almost a silhouette, and it made his heart skip a beat. He wasn't prepared to stay away from her forever. He didn't think it was humanly possible. Maybe they did need to talk about it.

"I want to know why."

He sighed tiredly, before he made the decision to cross the Common Room and drop down onto the couch beside her. "I'm not avoiding you," he said softly, once he was settled; "I'm just trying to work through something."

She leaned against him, ignoring the way he stiffened at the contact. "I'm not used to your not talking to me about things," she said.

"It's not exactly something I _can_ talk to you about," he confessed.

She turned her head to look at him. "There's something odd going on," she said. "Did Jack say something to you?"

He swallowed. "What makes you think that?"

"Because _you're_ not the only one who's been acting weird."

Harry couldn't help but drop his head down onto her shoulder. He'd missed her quite terribly. Her presence. Her smell. Merely the sound of her breathing. What about the idea of staying away from her had snapped something deep inside of him?

"What did he say to you?" she asked, trying not to think too hard about the warmth of him.

"What do you think he said?"

Hermione put a hand on his leg, just to touch him. "I think that he told you to stay away from me," she said. "But I think that you told him no, which makes me wonder about what _else_ he might have said to make you take him seriously."

Harry said nothing. What _could_ he say?

Hermione also didn't speak again. The two of them just sat there, in silence as their heads continued to spin.

"Please don't take him seriously," Hermione said after a while, almost pleading with him. It could be heard in her voice. This _avoidance_ of his was taking its toll on her as well, and she needed to put an end to it. Right now. "Sometimes he just says things."

Harry put a hand over the one of hers that was on his leg, linking their fingers. "It was different this time, Granger."

"Well, whatever he said, don't believe it, okay?" she instructed, her body tensing. "You're _my_ friend now, and I won't let him interfere with that just because he's scared of losing me. Please don't make it easier for him."

"I'm not."

"Then what is it, Harry?" she asked. "What is wrong? With me? With us?"

Harry sat up. "I asked you before if you'd ever liked Jack," he said. "I never asked if you _still_ like him." He breathed out. "Do you?"

Hermione looked surprised by the question. "Harry?"

"Do you?"

She swallowed, searching through her own feelings about the question. No, she didn't like Jack. Unfortunately, she was starting to figure out that she liked Harry, but she was going to keep that quiet. There was no need to blow everything out of proportion now. It was already amazing enough that he was her friend at all.

"Granger?" he prompted quietly.

"I don't," she said seriously. "What makes you think that I do?"

He looked her in the eye, searching for _something_. Any hint of an untruth. He needed to know. "What happened between you and Krum?" he asked.

"Harry," she said. "Why are you asking me all these questions? What did Jack say? What happened?"

Harry didn't answer her. He didn't even know _what_ he was asking, or _why_. What was wrong with him? Why did he care? He didn't care. Did he?

God, this was all just so confusing.

"Harry."

He stared into her eyes, his breath quickening. "I'm sorry," he said. "I told you that I'm trying to figure something out."

"But you're still my friend, right?"

"Of course, Granger," he said. "I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

She tried to believe him, but there was a quiver in his voice. "Sit back again," she said, ignoring the thought that they were approaching some kind of crossroads.

He followed the order, and returned to his original position, his head dropping onto her shoulder again and staying there.

Hermione rested her own head on his, her left hand automatically searching for one of his. She squeezed his fingers gently, maintaining pressure until she could feel the erratic beating of his heart through his fingertips.

"Say, Granger?" he whispered.

"Hmm?"

"Have you ever wondered how rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist?"

Without thinking too much about it, she turned her head and placed a soft kiss on the top of his head, his hair tickling her nose. "All the time, Harry. All the time."

* * *

"Maybe we should call it a night," Hermione said, leaning forward enough that Harry could smell her. Did she always smell so good? "It's getting late."

Harry reached for her left hand, and turned her wrist over so he could see her wristwatch. It was something that he usually did, probably just as an excuse to touch her. "It's only midnight."

As if on cue, she yawned.

It took everything he had not to tell her she was adorable. "Okay then, time for bed," he said happily. "I strongly suspect that you're going to ace our Charms test."

"Do you think you'll get a higher mark than me?" she asked, smiling slightly.

"You're the only person I know who gets higher than a hundred percent, Granger."

She blushed a dark red, and then looked around the empty Common Room, as if someone could come to her rescue. "We'll see," she said secretively.

"I've definitely given up trying to beat you. Second place shall forever be mine, Granger." Harry stood up and started packing away his books. He also started on hers as well, as she sat and watched him, something different present in her eyes. She'd been looking at him differently lately, as if she was also trying to figure something out, and he wasn't sure if he should be worried or not.

He piled her books up for her, and resisted the urge to kiss the top of her head when he was done.

Hermione eventually stood up and put her books in her book bag, while he waited patiently. She could feel his eyes on her, boring into her.

Everything had been more _intense_ between them since that late night talk, but she couldn't say _why_ that was. He looked at her in a different, more intense way, and just the thought of him made the hairs on her arms stand on end.

Harry walked with her towards the staircase leading to the girls' dormitories and they came to a mutual stop, their eyes meeting. He desperately wanted to kiss her. It'd been a problem lately, and he was struggling to keep a handle on it. It was a burning desire, and he was almost certain it was going to reveal itself in a disastrous way.

Hermione had no such reservations. "Goodnight, Harry," she said quickly, and reached up to kiss his cheek, before she hurried up the stairs, disappearing from sight.

It took Harry quite a while to catch his breath. He was convinced that she was going to be the death of him, and she would probably enjoy it.

Truthfully, so would he.

* * *

Hermione bit her bottom lip, suddenly nervous about what she decided she was going to tell Harry. She'd given it a lot of thought, and she decided that she _wanted_ to tell him. Not because he'd asked, though that prompted it, but because she wanted him to know. Why she wanted him to know, she would try to figure out later. He just had to know.

"I've been thinking," she said, dragging Harry's attention away from the chess match that was currently going on between Luna and Neville in the library. Luna was good, but Neville had a way of throwing her somehow, and she was desperately trying to figure out why that was.

Really, all she had to do was ask Harry, and he'd probably be able to tell her.

Harry looked at Hermione. She was sitting closer than normal, which was probably because they were actually sharing a large armchair, their bodies practically pressed together. Harry's heart was _still_ beating widely, and having her look at him that way definitely wasn't helping.

"About what you asked me about Krum."

Harry tensed, his eyes bulging slightly. "Oh."

"I still don't know why you asked, but I've decided to tell you anyway," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I think he was fascinated by the fact that I _wasn't_ fascinated by him," she started. "We didn't spend that much time actually _talking_." She giggled at his wide eyes. "No, we didn't do _that_ either. I mean that the language barrier made conversation difficult, but I think I was a welcome break from the fangirls that took up most of his life."

"Weren't you a fan?" he asked.

"Not as much as Ron, that's for sure," she answered, smiling from a tinge of nostalgia. "Quidditch is just a game to me, you know? I don't really care much for it."

He exaggerated a gasp, and she giggled again.

"But I liked him," she continued. "He saw that I was a girl, and he took me seriously. I wouldn't say that he saw _me_ exactly, but - " she stopped. She was not going to get into that right now. Now definitely wasn't the time to get into the fact that _she_ probably didn't even know who she really was. "It was nice. We spent time together; my own welcome break from trying to keep my best friend alive. He was kind and so respectful. He didn't make me cry, and he even invited me to visit him in Bulgaria, imagine." She let out a light laugh. "He'd thought that there was something going on between Jack and me."

"Rita Skeeter helped with that," he commented.

She let out a small growl, and her body vibrated with the action, making Harry close his eyes. "She's another subject entirely," she said through gritted teeth. "I'm saying that you're not the only person to wonder if there's ever been something between Jack and me."

"Ginny?"

Hermione did not like it whenever he brought up Ginny. Something always flared in her chest, before her head caught up with her heart and called her irrational. Ginny was Jack's girlfriend. Everyone knew that. "She asked me about it once," she told him. "Just before they started dating. It was an easy answer then, and it's an even easier one now."

"Why now?"

Hermione did not respond to that question. "You took Luna to the Ball, didn't you?"

He shook his head. "Luna went with Neville," he said. "I went home."

"You did?"

"I _really_ didn't want to be here for that," he said. "The entire year was already painful enough."

"So you don't know what happened between me and the boys?"

Harry suddenly had a dirty thought, but pushed it aside, forcing himself not to shudder in mild disgust. "No. What happened?"

"Ron made some comments about me and Viktor. I yelled at him. He yelled back. I cried, and Jack just led Ron away. It wasn't very pretty."

His eyes read her facial expression. "It still bothers you, doesn't it?"

"What?"

"He made you feel small," Harry said, guessing right. "There Krum was, making you feel seen, and then Ron took it all away." He shook his head. "And you believe him, don't you?"

"Believe him?"

Harry shifted slightly so he could look at her properly. He guessed that there were things that neglectful parents did to her personality. She was touchy because she received no obvious affection at home, and she was terribly understanding because she'd been dealt far too many disappointments for one lifetime. He also suspected that she worked as hard as she did, in the hopes that her parents would notice her, but that was difficult to do in the Wizarding World.

"Harry?" she prompted.

He smiled slightly. "So, was Krum your boyfriend?"

She blushed, but was saved from a response by the sound of Luna's sudden groan.

"Checkmate? What do you mean checkmate? I don't understand," the blond witch said, clearly exasperated. "I did everything right. I planned it all out." She looked suspiciously at Neville. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," he said innocently. Then: "Want to try again?"

Harry turned back to Hermione, who was now biting her bottom lip and looking thoughtful. He was tempted to repeat his question, but she beat him to speaking, throwing the questions back at him.

"So, you asked me about Jack and Viktor; do I get to ask you about Luna now?"

Harry burst out laughing, so surprised that he couldn't contain it. "Luna?" he whispered. "Are you kidding?"

"What?" she asked. "Luna is great."

"Luna is amazing," he admitted. "But she's literally like my sister, Granger," he said. "The same way that Neville is my brother. Seriously."

She blinked. "So... nothing?"

Harry leaned into her, bringing his forehead close to hers. "If you must know; I do believe that Longbottom there might actually have a crush on her," he said. "Though I can't be certain. He's never said anything to me."

"And why would he?" she asked. "Have _you_ said anything to him?"

"About what?"

"Whoever you like."

Harry stared at her, trying to decide on the most suitable response. Whatever it was, the next words out of his mouth definitely weren't it. "He already knows," he declared.

Hermione froze. Then she remembered Ginny. "When did you first realise that you liked Ginny?" she asked.

Harry looked a little thrown for a moment, and then he sighed. "In the Chamber of Secrets."

"What?" she blurted out, then blushed when several heads turned her way. She immediately dropped the volume of her voice: "Wait, wait. What?"

"I mean, I suppose it was just that, at the end, after the Basilisk was dead and all; she was just so brave, and I thought, wow."

Hermione couldn't process all this new information. "You saw the Basilisk?"

He nodded, feeling a little embarrassed. "For a moment, I was even able to control it."

Her eyes widened. "What?" Then, somewhat savagely: "Stop making me ask questions and just tell me what happened." _Because obviously Jack withheld the truth. Harry was there. How?_

Harry didn't look taken aback, though he was surprised by the hint of desperation in her voice. "As is what happens whenever Jack is dumb enough to get himself into another scrap with Voldemort, I end up there as well," he said. "I don't know why. I just feel some pull, whether it's to protect him or deal with Voldemort because _obviously_ Jack can't; that's anyone's guess."

"Apparation?"

"So my mother thinks," he agreed. "Some form of it, at least." He shrugged noncommittally. "So, imagine my surprise when I found myself in the Chamber of Secrets with Tom Riddle's soul child, a hotblooded Gryffindor and an unconscious Weasley. It was like the start to a truly terrible joke." He sat back, leaning against her again. She was so warm. "I was terrified, but I was so mad. I don't get where Jack goes off doing stupid things, and you - " he stopped suddenly. "You weren't there."

Hermione reached for his hand, and squeezed.

"I don't think the Basilisk actually _wanted_ to hurt anyone," he said. "It was just being controlled by Riddle, so, you know, I fought for control, while the thing went hunting for Jack. Fawkes helped us out, definitely. Then, I had it. _I had it,_ Granger, but Jack is a fucking idiot."

She flinched at the sound of the word, surprised he'd used it. He didn't even seem to notice that she'd reacted at all; he was so lost in the memory of that night.

"Because of him, I lost control, which was why it had to be killed."

From the way he avoided saying _who_ killed the large snake, she just knew that it'd been him. Just how many things had he done that Jack twisted? She was tempted to ask him about their first year again, or even their fourth year, when he was the one who squeezed her fingers.

"I reckon Jack started to like Ginny around the same time," he said solemnly. Then: "He's the Boy-Who-Lived. I never stood a chance."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully.

"There was another girl at home," he confessed after a while. She'd told him about Krum, so he would tell her about Jennifer. "Jen was my first kiss, summer after third year. Sirius called me a late bloomer. My mum hexed him for that."

She giggled, relaxing her body and absorbing the heat of him. There was still so much that she wanted to ask; so much that she needed to know about him. If she _knew_ him, then maybe she would be okay with his knowing her. Maybe.

"We went on a disastrous date after that, and she never spoke to me again," he explained, tempted to lift his arm and put it around her shoulders. "Girls are so complicated sometimes."

Hermione was inclined to agree with him. "But we're worth it," she said, letting him know.

"Jen wasn't," he said quietly; "but you definitely are."

Her breath caught, and her eyes flickered towards his face, searching for something. She found it amusing that he was making an effort not to look at her. He was too much sometimes. She couldn't resist leaning towards him and kissing his cheek quickly, as if she were stealing something from him.

Harry would have given it willingly. He was grinning widely when he turned his own head to look at her. "One day I'm going to reciprocate, and we'll see how you like it," he warned, sounding deathly amused.

"I'd like to see you try," she teased.

"Oh, I will," he said, turning his attention back to Luna and Neville. "You won't even see me coming."

* * *

"You didn't listen, Black."

Harry sighed, his shoulders tensing.

"I told you to stay away from her," Jack said coldly.

Harry turned on his heel to face his barely older brother. He was, yet again, struck by how dissimilar they were. They looked nothing alike, which was a relief, but then Harry disliked the fact that he resembled James Potter so much. But, really, were he and Jack even related?

"Why won't you listen?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "No," he said coldly. "Why don't _you_ listen? I said _no_. I can't, and I won't, so just accept that Granger and I are friends, okay?"

Jack was breathing heavily. "Is that all you are?"

"What do you even care?" Harry sht back. "You're with Ginny, aren't you?"

"So, what, you can't have my girlfriend so you settle for my best friend?"

Something snapped in Harry, and he lunged forward to pin Jack up against the empty corridor's wall. He didn't normally react violently, but Hermione Granger was off limits. "I am not _settling_ for anything," he hissed, his green eyes practically glowing from his anger. "How do you think she would feel if she heard you talking about her like that?"

"Let me go," Jack said, fighting against Harry's hold.

"I'm friends with her," Harry said, practically growling. "Get over it, or _you're_ really going to be the one to lose her." At that, he released Jack, stepped back, turned and started to walk away.

"She'll figure it out, you know?" Jack said, and Harry stopped walking, though he didn't turn back. "She'll figure out that you're just using her to get to me, and then she'll come running right back."

Harry shook his head. "You call yourself her best friend, but you know nothing about her." That was all he would say, as he continued on his way. He could sometimes understand Jack's irrational fear of losing her, but what he couldn't understand was why he thought she belonged to him.

He was still mulling it over when said witch practically tackled him when he arrived in the Common Room later that night, minutes before curfew.

"I was about to send out a search party," she said, her one arm wrapping around his waist as she led them to _their_ couch.

Harry sat down first, bringing her down with him. His heart was racing. It usually was whenever she was around these days. How could one person do this to him? He felt like everything about his life just wasn't as it seemed anymore, and it was terrifying.

"Jack was snarkier than usual today," she said casually; "Did you two get into a spat again?"

"We might have," he confessed.

"About?"

"I'll give you three guesses, and the last two don't count," he said softly.

"Me, then."

"It seems to me that you're very important to both of us, Granger," he said. "He's trying to assert some form of dominance, because he's scared of losing you, which is something I can understand. That thought terrifies me."

"Harry?"

"Listen to me," he said seriously. "I can sit here and complain about how sucky my life is, but it really isn't. There are thousands of people who have it worse than I do. I mean, even if I _was_ nothing; even if I _had_ nothing; the fact that I even _knew you_ would be enough for me. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Hermione thought she did, but she couldn't accept it. He _wasn't_ saying what she thought he was saying, because nobody would ever say such a thing to her. She kept coming back to the same thought that, if her own _parents_ didn't want her; why would anyone else?

It was hard enough making and accepting friends, but Harry was saying _something else_.

"Harry," she said, the warning clear in her voice.

Harry didn't back down. "Do you understand what I'm saying?" he repeated.

"Is this that something that you're working through?" she asked. "Are you two literally having a fight over who I get to be friends with?"

"No," he said, and he meant it. "This isn't some fight. This isn't some wrestle for your attention, Granger. What I'm telling you is that you are important to me, and I intend to be your friend, no matter what anyone says. Especially not Jack. Or you, really. So, do you understand?

"Do you understand what you mean to me? That you've burned me, and I can't go back to just being a stranger to you. I won't. Not for anyone. I'm selfish, and I don't care. I'm being selfish. Do you understand?"

She blinked rapidly. "Harry?"

He smiled at her, then did something unthinkable and kissed her cheek. It was the first time he'd done it, and it'd taken all his willpower to aim for the skin of her cheek instead of her inviting lips. "I think you understand now, Granger."

She was too surprised to speak. Her mouth fell open, and she didn't have the wherewithall to close it.

"Yes," he said; "you definitely understand." He sat back and waited quietly in the cacophony of their mutually erratic breathing.

"You're definitely making for an interesting year, Potter," she said after a while, just managing to recover. "Intent on shaking things up, are you?"

"This isn't a game to me, Granger."

She swallowed. "I know it's not, Harry."

"It never was."

She sighed. "I know, Harry. I know."

"I promise it never will be. Not to me."

She reached for both his hands, squeezing them tighter than was completely necessary. Really, she just needed him to stop talking. "You're saying a lot of things I'm not ready to hear, Potter."

"Then hear this, Granger: I believe that it's rare and beautiful that _you_ exist." And, really, that was all there was to it.

* * *

"It looked like Angelina killed you during practice today," Hermione said, flicking one of Harry's arm muscles with her middle finger. "I'm surprised you can even climb these stairs right now."

"Thanks for walking with me," he said, groaning slightly. He barely had the energy to make it up to his dormitory room, but having her with him was definitely helping. She was distracting enough that his brain wasn't focused on the throbbing in his muscles. "I probably shouldn't have stayed behind to get in some extra work," he said, stretching his one arm. "I'm going to feel like death tomorrow."

"Why is she working you guys so hard when your next match is in February?"

"Because she wants to win," he said. " _And_ because Jack didn't catch the Snitch. She's still angry with him. It's actually quite funny." He paused on a step to stretch out his right calf, then continued to walk.

Hermione watched his legs as he walked, noticing a slight limp. Had he hurt himself? Before she could ask him the question, they were in the dormitory, _alone_. Harry shuffled towards his bed and flopped down on its edge, groaning in relief.

She sat down next to him, close enough to feel the heat of him. "Can I ask you something?"

He looked at her. "Of course."

She couldn't look at him. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"Granger, what is it?"

"Have you figured out that something that you had to figure out?"

He swallowed thickly. "I have, yes."

"So we're okay now?"

"When weren't we?"

Hermione elbowed him. "Are you going to tell me what was bothering you?"

Harry didn't know what he could say to her in this moment. She was expecting an answer, and he couldn't think of anything other than: _I desperately want to kiss you right now; kind of always, actually_. Somehow, he didn't think that would go down well.

"Harry," she said, leaning into him slightly. He was practically radiating heat.

"I don't think that you _really_ want to know," he said. "I don't think that you're actually ready for what I _could_ tell you."

"Harry?" Her voice sounded small, vulnerable, and it tugged on his heartstrings.

His eyes met hers, and something snapped inside of him. He couldn't resist it any longer. He lost the battle. Epically. As a result, he barely gave her time to react as he leaned forward to capture her lips with his own. It was a hesitant kiss, both of them caught between relaxing into it or stopping altogether.

Hermione pulled away first, her eyes wide. "Harry?" she whispered in panic.

"Granger," he said breathlessly.

She shook her head as she rose to her feet, immediately backing away from him. "Please tell me that was a friendly kiss."

"I'm sorry," he said, swearing internally. What was he thinking? "It's not," he told her. "I, umm, I've wanted to kiss you for a while."

"Potter?"

"Granger."

She stood up. "I should go."

Harry kept a hold of her hand. "Wait. Just, please don't go."

Hermione stepped away from him, forcing his grip on her to loosen. "God, Harry, what did you do? What did you do?" And then she rushed out of his room, and Harry didn't have the wherewithal to go after her.

What _had_ he done?


	9. Beautiful Soul

**Chapter Nine: Beautiful Soul**

Hermione was avoiding him.

Harry didn't have to be a genius to figure that out when she all but turned and headed in the opposite direction when she spotted him in the corridor as he walked to the Great Hall with Luna.

"What did you do to 'Mione?" Luna asked him, laughing at their now mutual friend's antics.

"I kissed her."

Luna stopped walking, and immediately brought him to a stop as well. "Wait, what? You did _what_?"

Harry let out a long breath, his eyes flicking about to see just how much attention Luna was drawing to them. "Yesterday, when she followed me up to my room after we dropped you and Neville off after practice; I ended up kissing her."

"And then what happened?"

"Exactly what I predicted, Luna," he said tiredly. "She panicked and ran."

Luna narrowed her eyes. "Did you go after her?"

"I couldn't," he informed her, silently berating his still-sore muscles. "She was just gone, hiding in her dormitory... and now she's not talking to me, or even looking at me, so you know..."

"That's it? You give up?"

"Of course not," he said heatedly. "It's just, right now, what am I supposed to do when she won't even look at me?" he asked, sounding breathless. "You _saw_ that. She practically ran for the hills at the sight of me."

Luna took a deep breath. "I don't even know where you go off _kissing_ her, Harry. I told you tell her how you _feel_ about her."

He gave her a pointed a look. "Trust me, Luna, kissing her was a lesser evil. I don't even know what to make of my own feelings."

"Really?" Luna sounded mildly surprised. "That bad, huh?"

"I think it's Sirius bad," he said, nodding his head as they started to walk again. "I need to get her to talk to me, but how do I do that when she's decided on avoiding me like the plague? She'll go straight up to her dorm after class, and I just know she won't come to the Great Hall if she can help it."

Luna thought about it for a moment, visibly making a decision. "Look, just be in the library at four o'clock, and I'll make sure that she's there."

"How on earth do you expect to do that?"

"I think it's best that you not know," she said quietly. "Just know that, when I ask, you owe me a pass, okay?"

Harry looked skeptical. "Why? What have you done?"

"Nothing. Just, promise?"

"Fine, I promise."

"Four o'clock." She said it so firmly, that he had no choice but to believe her.

And he wasn't disappointed.

True to Luna's word, Hermione Granger was standing over Harry's table in the library, glaring at him, at exactly four o'clock. She looked about as put out as a person could possibly look, and it took all his control not to burst out laughing.

"Remind me to kill Luna," Hermione muttered as soon as Harry looked up. "And to totally disown her as a friend as well."

"Hi to you too," he said, risking a smile.

"I'm mad at you too," she said, dropping her bag onto the table rather violently. "Don't think I don't know that the two of you are in cahoots."

He sighed, as he stood up and moved to stand in front of her. "Don't be mad at her," he said quietly, trying to sound soothing. "She was just trying to help."

"By doing what?" she asked in annoyance. "Tricking me into thinking that Jack was planning something sinister against you. I'm mightily unimpressed, Harry Potter."

"Well, I am too."

"I don't care."

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked, huffing in annoyance.

"No, not to me."

"Then it's not my fault you're so thick and can't take a hint," she said pointedly, folding her arms across her chest.

He couldn't help his flinch. He'd expected her to run, but he hadn't expected _this_. Whatever the hell _this_ even was. "Why are you so mad?" he asked again, reading the twitch of her upper lip for what it was. Pure anger. And nervousness.

"Why am _I_ so mad?" she asked rhetorically, her tone turning sarcastic. " _I'm_ the one who was dragged here under the pretence that - "

"No," he cut her off, risking more of her wrath. "Why are you so mad _at me_? _Before_."

She glared at him. "You kissed me."

"I know."

"And now everything is ruined."

He frowned. "Why does everything have to be ruined?"

"Because," she said, shaking her head. "Honestly, what did you expect to happen, Harry? That the world would just magically fix itself because we kissed?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"I like you, Granger," he said seriously, his emerald eyes meeting her hazel brown ones, holding them captive. "I want to be with you."

She froze, her head spinning slightly. Nobody had ever just come out right and said those words to her, and she wasn't sure how to respond. What was a person even supposed to say to that? And those eyes. Couldn't he just put them away for a little while or something?

"Granger?" he queried, unaware of the short circuit in her brain. "Say something, please?"

She dropped her gaze, her body deflating slightly. "What about Ginny?" she asked, practically whispering.

"I don't like Ginny," he said sternly. "I don't even _know_ Ginny. But I know you, and I like _you_."

She cleared her throat. "We were good as friends, Harry."

"And we'll be even better at this," he countered. "I just know it."

"How can you?" she asked, her voice low and raspy. For the first time, Harry was able to see what she was trying so hard to hide. She was scared. God, she was petrified. Didn't she think that anyone would want her? Didn't she believe that he desperately did?

Harry leaned forward, resisting the urge to reach out and take one of her hands in his. "I know that you want this too," he said slowly.

"I don't," she argued halfheartedly.

"It's okay," he said, risking a smile at her stubbornness. "We'll do things slowly, okay? The right way. You can tell me when it's getting too much. But I want this, Granger. I want _you_."

She shook her head. "Do you even know what you're saying? Have you forgotten who I am? Who _you_ are? Who _we_ are?"

"No I haven't forgotten," he said seriously. "I know exactly who you are, Granger."

And that was probably the part that scared Hermione the most. He claimed to know, and yet here he was, still professing to wanting to be with her. Were all Potter men this insane? And damn stupid!

"Don't you want this?" he asked quietly, suddenly doubting himself. Had he read everything so terribly wrong? "Just say so, and we can forget that any of this happened," he offered, his heart twisting painfully as he said the words out loud. He would find a way to make it happen, if it was what she wanted. He just couldn't lose her; in any way.

"No," she said, looking at him. "I don't want that."

"Then what do you want?"

"We were just talking," she said, practically whispering; "but now I'm attached to you."

Harry said nothing as he continued to watch her, trying to figure out what she needed him to say. Clearly, this bothered her to no end and the last thing he wanted to do was scare her by involuntarily revealing the depths of his own feelings.

"This is never going to work, you know," she said, dropping her gaze.

"Maybe it will, maybe it won't," he replied, trying to sound calm, but his voice still shook. "But I want to try."

"Okay." Her voice came out in a whisper, and Harry's heart lurched in his chest. What did she say?

But it was when she gave him the small smile that he loved, and his breath caught in his throat, that his brain accepted it. She'd said _okay_.

Once more, Harry couldn't resist the urge to kiss her. His body propelled itself forward of its own accord and his lips touched hers, tender at first, until she started to respond. Their first kiss had been nothing like this. He'd been uncertain and she'd been unsure. And then panicked. It had ended as quickly as it began.

But not this one.

Harry moved the hand that was on her cheek to the back of her neck, his fingers playing with her hair. His other hand touched her waist, absently drawing her closer to him as his tongue ventured forward to part her lips.

She moaned against his mouth, her hands running up his arms to bury her fingers in his hair. She ended up changing the angle, merely deepening the kiss and turning his brain to mush. Eventually, they had to pull apart when air became a problem, and he held onto her waist but she dropped her hands from his neck.

Harry wouldn't have been able to stop his smile if he tried. "Hermione," he breathed, using her first name for the first time, ever.

A smile was playing on her lips but she looked more panicked than she had before. "Don't," she said softly. "Just… don't."

"Okay."

"This is crazy, Harry," she said, stepping back and bringing her hands up to play with them right in front of her stomach. She was biting at her bottom lip, clearly thinking hard about what was happening; what would happen and how this would all be received by the great big world.

"Stop trying to analyse it," he told her. "I like you. I'm pretty sure that you like me. What else is there?"

She glanced at him. "Oh, well, you're just so confident in my feelings for you then, aren't you?"

He grinned at her. "I am."

And then she was kissing him again, tugging on his shirt with her nimble fingers. Harry took hold of her hands, entwining their fingers as his lips moved from hers, along her jaw towards her neck, and then back again.

Hermione came to her senses quickly, remembering where they were, and _who_ they were, and pulled back from him quite suddenly. She placed her hands flat on his chest, kissed his lips one last time and then pushed him back slightly.

Harry didn't go too far. "Hi," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

"Hi back," she breathed, her eyes shining. "This is crazy," she said again.

"But you like it."

"Mmm," she sounded; "Maybe, maybe not."

He laughed lightly, reaching for her hands again and entwining their fingers. She was so warm and soft and he swore he could remain in this position for the rest of his pitiful life. Just with her.

Always with her.

"You called me Hermione," she whispered.

He blinked. "I did?" Then: "I did. Damn."

"Who knew that all I had to do was kiss you?" she teased.

"Excuse me, but I was the one to kiss _you_."

"Semantics."

She smiled contently, her eyes never once straying from his face. "What are you thinking about?" she asked softly, as if speaking too loud would break the spell of whatever was happening between them.

He took a deep breath. "I want to go on a date with you," he said seriously. "A real one."

She blinked.

"I want us to get all dressed up, and go out to lunch in Hogsmeade. I want to get all nervous about possibly saying the wrong thing, and I want to hesitate before taking hold of your hand because I'm unsure whether you'd like it or not. And then, at the end of the day, I want to drop you off right at the stairs leading up to your dormitories and share a perfect first kiss."

Hermione was blushing, her eyes teary and her smile fixed.

"How does that sound?"

She absently squeezed the fingers of the hands she was holding. "Sounds perfect."

His eyes widened. "Really?"

She was smiling as she nodded. "Our next outing to Hogsmeade is on the sixteenth," she informed him.

"Is that okay?"

"I don't know; you tell me."

Harry responded by giving her giving her an Eskimo kiss, which made her giggle.

"That tickles," she let him know.

"Would you rather I used my lips instead?"

She giggled again. "Oh, so smooth, Harry Potter."

He placed a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose. "I don't even know what you were so worried about," he said softly, almost whispering.

Hermione could feel her walls crumbling down. She just knew that he would be the person she would eventually tell about all her worries and all her fears. Harry wouldn't laugh or tell her she was stupid to think that her parents didn't love her.

No, Harry would hold her close and assure her. Just by being who he was, he would protect her.

This was the boy who was going to save her.

* * *

"Luna?" Hermione was, admittedly, a little nervous. It made sense that she would be, given what she was about to ask.

The blonde Ravenclaw smiled at the brunette, somewhat knowingly. "Hello, Hermione," she said dreamily. "What can I do for you?"

Hermione immediately sat down on the bench next to Luna, dropping the volume of her voice. "I need a favour," she said seriously. This _was_ a serious matter.

Luna turned her body to give the brunette her full attention. "Anything."

Hermione frowned slightly, not used to this. Normally, she'd have to bargain with her Gryffindor friends to get them to do anything for her. And, well, it wasn't as if she'd told them about her date with Harry. She definitely wasn't looking forward to their reactions to the news. It was one thing for her to be his friend, but an entirely different thing for her to date him.

She was going on a date with Harry.

"Hermione?" Luna prompted.

"I'm going on a date with Harry," she said out loud, and her heart rate automatically picked up just at the sound of hearing it said.

"Finally," Luna commented, smiling widely. Then: "When?" she asked, as if Harry hadn't already told her. He'd literally done a happy dance when he finally explained to her and Neville how he and Hermione were going on a _date_. Luna didn't think she'd ever seen him that happy.

"On Saturday," Hermione replied.

"Makes sense."

Hermione took a deep breath. "I have to look perfect," she said, dropping her gaze. "And, well, I'm not really sure _what_ to wear, and I was wondering if you could help me."

Luna nodded her head in thought. "You have to look perfect because it's your first date?"

Hermione shook her own head. "No," she answered truthfully; "because it's Harry."

Luna regarded the brunette for a long moment, seeing the slight crease in her brow and the odd twitch in her upper lip. Hermione Granger was nervous. "Wow, you really do like him, don't you?"

Hermione didn't immediately deny it. "Can you tell?" she asked.

" _I_ can," she said with a smile.

"Do you think _he_ can?" she asked; "Because he'd be so smug about it."

Luna giggled, knowing full well that Harry would probably tease her mercilessly about it. "If he was looking hard enough, he might be able to," she admitted, deciding on the truth. "But I reckon he's in the same boat, so you're safe."

She nervously played with her hands. "It's just that, umm, he's the first great boy I've actually dated and that really scares me."

Luna smiled widely. "That's good, because he's rather terrified too."

Hermione laughed lightly. "So I want to wear the perfect outfit on Saturday."

Luna suddenly took Hermione's hand, startling the older witch. "You do realise that I'm not exactly known for _perfect outfits_ , right?"

Hermione couldn't help her smile. "I might have noticed," she said. "But I'm almost certain you won't steer me in the wrong direction."

"As long as you know," she sing-songed. It took a moment for her features to turn serious again. "Hermione, why aren't you asking Ginny to help you get ready?"

Hermione, undoubtedly, took her time answering the question. "Well, umm, she isn't quite on board with the whole Harry and Hermione thing."

"Because of Jack?"

"I think so," Hermione said. "We haven't really spoken about it, and I think that she thinks I'm being a bad friend, which I'm not. Not really. It's just that, well, she's not that great to be around at the moment. She's a real dampener, and I'm just trying to enjoy this time with Harry. I don't want to be made to feel guilty about it."

Luna just nodded her understanding.

"She just doesn't understand that there are no sides," Hermione continued, knowing that Luna _would_ be someone to understand. "Not when it comes to Jack and Harry. It's James we've got to worry about."

Luna did understand that. Just in the few times she'd seen James Potter, she knew that he wasn't that great of a human being, let alone a man. There was something undeniably dark about him, and she didn't need to hear Jack or Harry's war stories to figure out that she didn't like the older Potter. At all.

"So how do we do this then?" the blonde asked.

Hermione took a breath. "Well, uh, I'm sure that I can sneak you into Gryffindor Tower, if you're okay with that."

Luna beamed at her. "Ooh, an adventure! I can't wait."

And Hermione truly felt as if Luna was genuinely happy for her. It was something new that she was going to have to come to accept. She didn't receive this kind of unwavering support from her parents, or from her friends, not really. But now there was Luna, and there was Harry. She sometimes got the feeling that Neville wasn't much of a fan of her, but she couldn't be sure.

Hermione was still in a bit of a daze as she headed to the Gryffindor table. She was going on a date with Harry. How was she supposed to get through the day without telling anyone? Let alone the rest of the week.

Would someone notice that she was acting differently? What was going to happen when the rest of the student body found out?

 _She was going on a date with Harry_.

Suddenly, she didn't even care.

* * *

"So, tomorrow, you and I are going to have to hang out with Dean and Seamus," Ron said, interrupting Hermione's reading. "Apparently, Ginny claims that Jack hasn't been giving her enough attention."

Hermione sighed audibly, as she closed her book. She loved Ron, really she did, but sometimes she wanted to hit him. He just had no tact, and it was bound to get him in deep trouble at some point in his life. "What's happening tomorrow?" she asked patiently.

Ron glanced about the Common Room, making sure that neither Jack nor Ginny were within hearing distance. "Our best friend and your best friend are going on a _date_ ," he said, shuddering at merely the thought of it.

Hermione might have been amused, if she didn't know that she was going on one too.

"So, you know, I don't really want to spend all my time in Hogsmeade with just you, so we're going to spend the day with Dean and Seamus."

Hermione knew he was just being Ron, but she couldn't stop herself from asking: "And I don't get a say then?"

"Oh, come off it, Hermione," he said, smiling lazily; "who else would you hang out with?"

Hermione's head snapped towards him. "Just what is that supposed to mean?" she asked, her voice taking on a dangerous quality and her insecurities threatening to kick in.

He laughed, clearly not hearing the edge in her tone of voice. "What? Do you want to spend your time alone then?"

"What makes you think I'd be alone?"

"Who else would you go with? It's not like you actually have any other friends."

It was said so casually, that Hermione felt her heart constrict painfully. Did he think her incapable of making friends that weren't them? "I have other friends," she said through gritted teeth.

"Who? Black and his troop? Oh, come on, Hermione, be serious," he said, sounding so amused that Hermione felt her eyes prick with tears. "They aren't your friends. They don't even care about you. Don't you see that Black's just using you to get to Jack!"

Hermione blinked. Is that what he thought? Is that what they all thought? She looked around the Common Room. Her conversation with Ron wasn't going unnoticed, and she hated the attention. "Do you think I'm stupid?" she asked Ron, more viciously than she initially intended. "Honestly, do you really think me so daft that I would ever fall for that kind of ruse, if it were remotely true?"

Ron sputtered, surprised by the tone of her voice. "Hermione?"

"No!" she practically hissed as she rose to her feet to look him - sort of - in the eye. "I _have_ other friends, Ron! They're great, amazing people. They are my friends, and I don't want to hear you talking about them like that ever again. Do I make myself clear?"

"Granger?"

Hermione and Ron turned their heads towards the person who spoke. Harry was standing at the entrance to the Common Room, having just come in from goodness knows where, looking slightly abashed. What had he just walked into?

"Is everything okay?" Harry asked kindly, his eyes never straying from Hermione's reddening face.

"Everything is fine," Ron said curtly.

Harry didn't even blink out of sync, his eyes solely on Hermione. "I wasn't talking to you, Weasley." He stepped towards her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, though her bottom lip quivered, and he definitely noticed. "We're just having a bit of a disagreement," she explained vaguely. "I have it under control."

Harry fought internally, his urge to protect her threatening to overwhelm his knowledge that she was perfectly capable of handling her own. It was a true testament to his control that he was able to nod his head once, and then head through the Common Room towards the boys' dormitories.

Hermione watched him go, feeling somewhat relieved that he didn't try to insert himself into her _discussion_ with Ronald Weasley. He didn't need to be here for any of this. He deserved more. She'd failed him so many times before; she could at least protect him this way.

"See?" Ron suddenly said. "Bloke doesn't even have a backbone enough to stick up for his supposed _friend_."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "And just why would he have to stick up for me?" she asked. "Am _I_ not currently having a conversation with my _friend_ as well?"

"It's different," he said automatically. "Bloody hell, Hermione, you're just blowing this all out of proportion. All I said is that we're hanging out with Dean and Seamus tomorrow."

"Well, I'm not," she said stiffly.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm spending the day with my other friends," she snapped. "Or is it that you want me to ask your permission?"

He glared at her. "You're picking them over me?"

"What is it with you Weasleys and picking sides?" she asked in disbelief. "I like them, Ron." She made sure to use the pronoun 'them' instead of just referring to Harry, mainly because she wasn't yet ready to deal with the emotional blowup that would surely occur when they found out that she was going on a date with him. "And, frankly, I like them a hell of a lot more than I do you, Jack and Ginny right now."

Ron's mouth dropped open.

"Don't look so surprised," she snapped again. Merlin, she was riled up. "What did you think was going to happen when all the three of you do is talk badly about them anyway?" she huffed. "So, yeah, don't just _assume_ things," she finished, the entire thing feeling a little anti-climactic. Hermione was never really one for _flare_. She didn't wait a moment more, as she departed the Common Room, and followed the path that Harry had taken up the stairs.

Hermione found him digging around in his trunk. "Hey, you," she said from the doorway.

He immediately stood up, spiralling to face her. He took in her slightly haggard expression, and then stalked towards her, wrapping his arms around her small frame and holding her close. How was it that he knew exactly what she needed?

Hermione hadn't expected this reaction, but immediately relaxed into his embrace, her face buried in the crook of his neck. Her arms snaked around his waist and she held him just as tightly, enjoying the prolonged contact. They'd never hugged for this long before, and Hermione made a vow to do it more often.

Harry, somewhat reluctantly, loosened his grip on her so he could see her face, though he didn't fully release her. "Are you really okay?" he asked.

She nodded. "I think I overreacted," she confessed. "I suppose I'm a little, uh, nervous about tomorrow. Tense, maybe. But Ron really was being a tool, so I don't know. Lots of things are going on in my head right now."

Harry softly tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I can only imagine."

"I haven't told them about the date," she said slowly, suddenly wary of his reaction to that bit of news. "Are you mad?"

"Why would I be mad?"

She sighed. "I don't know."

Harry kissed her forehead. "Granger, I _told_ you that we would do this at your pace," he said softly. "You tell them whenever you're ready, okay? Though, you know, after I parade you around Hogsmeade tomorrow; they might have their suspicions."

"We'll deal with it then," she declared. "I don't want to be in a bad mood before tomorrow. I want to enjoy it."

"That's putting a lot of pressure on a bloke," he said, offering her an amused smile. "What if you're disappointed?"

"Doubtful, Potter."

"I'm going to hold you to that, Granger," he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Now that he was allowed to, he was tempted to pepper every inch of her face with adoring kisses. Her skin was just so soft, and she smelled so nice. He was a little obsessed, really.

"You're frowning," Hermione said, eyeing him suspiciously. "What's wrong?"

He couldn't help his grin. "Is it terribly childish to want to remain in this position for the rest of our lives?"

As a response, Hermione tugged him closer, their bodies pressing together. "Not childish, no," she said sincerely. "Somewhat unrealistic, but definitely not childish."

He kissed her other cheek, merely enjoying how easy it was for them to take this step towards _more_. He couldn't even fathom how he had survived anything less, before he'd known her; before he'd developed feelings for her.

Hermione reluctantly pulled back further. "I should go," she said sadly. "Don't want to be caught in here by your roommates."

"Reckon they'd think we were getting on?" he asked, winking at her.

She ignored his comment. "It'd be fine for me to stay if you didn't have your arms wrapped around me," she pointed out.

Harry huffed. "I'm never letting you go."

Hermione kept her eyes on him. "That is perfectly fine with me, Potter."

Harry kissed her lips this time, and they fell into a deep, heart-stopping kiss that could have gone on for hours had Hermione not struggled out of his possessive grip to get some much-needed air. She pulled away, her heart racing.

"What was that for?" she found herself asking.

Harry rested his forehead against hers. "Do you have any idea how sexy it is to hear you stand up for my friends?" he asked, his voice delicate, yet still raspy.

She just stared at him. Did he just call her, uh, sexy? Surely not.

Harry placed one last kiss against her lips before he released her fully so she could leave the room if she felt so inclined. "I just thought that you should know."

Hermione stepped towards him again and ended up staying for another seven minutes.

 _At least_.

* * *

Harry was nervous. That was the only word to describe what he was feeling. His hands were shaking and his heart was thumping in his chest. In a few minutes, Hermione was going to descend those stairs, and he was sure that she would take his breath away.

He wasn't wrong.

It wasn't that she was wearing anything spectacular. In fact, she was dressed warmly, which was expected, seeing as the snow had finally descended on Hogwarts a week earlier. He wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing though.

He'd had to endure scowls from Jack, Ron and Ginny as they moved past him in the Common Room while he waited for her to come down. But then there she was, and she was smiling at him in a way that made his stomach do an enthusiastic flip-flop.

"Hello, you," she said, stepping into his already waiting arms.

Harry hugged her close, and then released her, taking a step back. This was a first date. He would treat it as a first date. "Miss Granger."

"Mister Potter."

"Thank you for agreeing to accompany me," he said formally. "Shall we?" he asked, offering her his arm.

Hermione didn't even hesitate as she slipped her arm through his, and allowed him to lead the way out of the Common Room, a smile dancing on the edges of her lips. They weren't exactly running late, because there would be carriages going to and from Hogsmeade until just before dinner, but majority of the students going to Hogsmeade were definitely already gone. It was probably better this way anyway.

Harry made the executive decision that they would not be going to Madam Puddifoot's. He was also truly relieved that Hermione didn't seem interested in it either.

Once they arrived in Hogsmeade, Harry turned to her. "Is there anything specific that you need to get?"

Hermione, while fighting a blush, produced a piece of parchment with a rather comprehensive list from her winter coat and handed it to him. "Just those things," she said weakly.

"That's my girl," he said, letting her know that he didn't mind. In fact, it would have been weirder if she was afraid to be herself. "We can take care of these things, browse a little, and then maybe get a late lunch at the Three Broomsticks. How does that sound?"

Hermione squeezed his arm. "Sounds perfect."

Harry started them walking, his voice light and slightly airy as he pretended to be a tour guide to the _one street_ in Hogsmeade. "And on your left you have - " he stopped when she tensed. "What? What?"

"People are staring," she said in a whisper, halfway to burying her face in his jacket.

Harry glanced around, his pace slowing to a stop, and, indeed, people were looking at them. He felt a flash of anger. Why couldn't they just mind their own business? "I'm sorry, Granger," he said softly. "I thought, maybe, you know, our day could be _normal_ , but I was wrong." Then, timidly, he asked: "do you want to go back?"

Her head snapped up, her gaze meeting his. "No," she said strongly, confidently, and his heart stuttered. "You and I are on a date, and I'm not ending it for anything. Got it?"

He couldn't help kissing her cheek. "Yes, ma'am," he said, grinning madly.

Hermione, once again, looped her arm through his, and they started their walk again. It took him a while to relax again, and then it was like they were the only two people in the great big world. He was playful and attentive, and the right amount of affectionate without moving beyond the 'first-date-boundaries' that he set for himself.

They worked through Hermione's list rather quickly, each of them sporting happy, content smiles as the day progressed. Hermione couldn't figure out why they'd never spent the day in Hogsmeade together before. It was so much more fun with just him, truly.

"Are you hungry?" Harry eventually asked, as they ticked off purchasing new quills and a fresh bottle of ink.

"I'm starving."

Harry led the way to the Three Broomsticks. Owing to the fact that the two of them had started their own day later than the others, it was a relief to find that the initial lunch rush was over, and they were able to find and claim a small booth for themselves. They slid in, and sat closer than was strictly necessary, but neither was complaining.

Once their orders were placed - Hermione, lasagna, and Harry, the traditional fish and chips - they fell into easy conversation. Hermione was quick to ask him if he'd told his mother about the date.

"My mum knows everything," he said, heat rising up his neck. "It's embarrassing sometimes."

"Because she teases you?"

"Oh yes," he exclaimed. "She has no mercy sometimes."

Hermione couldn't help the sudden pang of jealousy that she felt whenever she was reminded of just how good a relationship Harry had with one of his parents. Even what he had would be enough for her, though she never said it out loud.

Harry sensed the shift in her, and his hand immediately covered hers as it rested on the table. "You can talk to my mum too, if you want," he offered. "I'm not claiming that she's some all-knower or something, but she's good at this kind of thing."

She blinked, her emotions going a little crazy all of a sudden. "What kind of thing?"

"Being the mum to people who need it," he said gently. "She's my mum, Luna's mum, Neville's, and sometimes she's even Sirius' mum."

Hermione giggled, her free hand moving to cover her mouth. She didn't really trust herself to speak at this point, so she just squeezed his hand, and looked away from him, hoping to calm herself down.

When their food arrived, Harry released her hand, and they proceeded to eat in silence for a few minutes. Hermione broke it by voicing something that she'd been thinking about for some time.

"Can I ask you a serious question?" she started.

He looked at her, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Briefs."

Her eyes widened. "Harry!"

"What?" he asked innocently. "They're better for riding a broom," he informed her; "I mean, have you seen how tight those Quidditch pants are?"

Despite herself, Hermione blushed a deep scarlet, and she was forced to drop her gaze. Yes, yes she had noticed. Conversations like these would have been easier before they were dating. Now, well, things _were_ different, and she couldn't stop herself from picturing him in said briefs.

"I'm sorry," he eventually said. "What did you want to ask?"

She bit at her bottom lip somewhat nervously, and Harry waited patiently. "From the things you've already told me," she began; "there seem to be glaring inconsistencies between what Jack says happened and what actually happened when it came to fighting off Voldemort." She took a breath. "Do you know why?"

"Jack is a prick?" he offered.

She waited patiently.

Harry stared at her for a moment, trying to decide on what to say. Then: "What makes you think _I'm_ not the one with all the embellishments?" he asked.

She narrowed her eyes slightly. "You said you would tell me no lies, and I highly doubt that you're about to start now that we're dating."

He nodded thoughtfully, having successfully bought himself some much-needed thinking time. What could he tell her when he sometimes didn't even know what to make of it all?

"All I know is that Jack is the Boy-Who-Lived, Granger, and it wouldn't do to have the folklore surrounding him to be tarnished by his kid brother," he explained. "That's what _they_ decided, but I've never actively tried to hide what I've done. I won't. It doesn't matter to me if people don't believe me. I really don't care if people think I'm crazy."

Somehow, Hermione just believed him.

"I also think that my mum and Sirius let it all play out this way to make sure I don't become a target for Voldemort's cronies," he added. "If they know that I've had a hand in thwarting his attempts to return, then they'll come after me, and I'm not nearly as well protected as Jack is."

She nodded thoughtfully, taking it all in.

"But there's something specific you want to know though, isn't there?"

She nodded once. Well, there was something specific _for now_ , at least. "I was wondering if you could tell me what really happened at the end of our first year."

"What did Jack tell you happened?" he eventually asked.

She sighed dramatically, before she explained what Jack finally told them, after he'd had Dumbledore explain parts to him. She discussed their initial escapades, and the moment that Jack had gone on by himself at the Potions' riddle. She informed Harry that she knew about the way Jack's touch had basically killed Quirrell, and so expelled Voldemort's wraith from the host's dying body.

Harry shuddered at the reminder. "It really happened that way," he said.

"But you were there, weren't you?"

He nodded. "This time, I may or may not concede to the fact that I really might have been the way," he confessed.

"How so?"

"Well, you see, when Quirrell grabbed for Jack; he kind of grabbed for me too," he said, shuddering. "He was probably confused or something, but it was painful."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Painful?"

"If I could feel whatever Jack was doing to Quirrell; just imagine what _he_ was feeling," he said, shuddering again. "I still have nightmares about the sound of his screaming sometimes," he confessed. "I wake up with it ringing in my ears."

That was something new. She couldn't remember his ever telling her about any sort of nightmares. For a moment, she considered that he thought he'd be seen as weak if ever he admitted to having such a nightmare.

"Do you dream about the graveyard?" she asked quietly.

He visibly stiffened. "Sometimes," he eventually confessed. "I try not to actively think about it. There's something truly unique about fearing for your life, you know?"

Hermione didn't _know_ , but she didn't say anything.

"I have a particularly terrifying one from time to time, where I get whisked away by whatever pulls me to wherever and, when I arrive, I don't have my wand." He glanced at her. "As a result, not having my wand is truly off-putting."

"Is that why you now have that holster on your wrist?"

He nodded once. "Now I can have it with me always," he said, with a small smile. "The dream hasn't stopped though. It's truly a weird one."

"What happens when you get to wherever you get?" she asked.

"Bad things," was all he said, and Hermione didn't ask any further questions about it. He absently played with the glass on the table in front of him. "I have another dream about this really large snake," he admitted after a moment.

"Like the Basilisk?"

"Smaller," he said. "But equally terrifying. It feels like it's searching for something, you know? Desperately."

Hermione bit her bottom lip. "Does that mean that you're a Parselmouth too?" she asked nervously. "I mean, I know that you said you were able to control the Basilisk for a while, but you never did actually say..."

He squirmed in his seat. "Would it change anything if I was?"

She was quick to shake her head. "I know you're not a Dark wizard, Harry," she said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

"And just how are you so sure of that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

"It's in your eyes," she said easily, absolutely no hesitancy in her voice.

Harry took a deep breath. "I am," he said. "I definitely am. A Parselmouth, I mean; not Dark." He laughed nervously. "But I've been able to keep mine a better secret than Jack has."

Hermione couldn't help her grin. "You do understand what this means, right?"

"What?"

"Jack's Parseltongue can't possibly be a gift that Voldemort bestowed upon him if you can do it too," she said; "and since it's something that's inherited..."

It took a moment for Harry to click, and then he burst out laughing, drawing attention to them. He clutched at his stomach. "Merlin, can you imagine James Potter's face when he finds out that he's a sperm donor for Parselmouths. He'll probably burst into tears."

Instead of joining in the laughter, Hermione looked thoughtful.

"What?" he asked, desperately trying to catch his breath.

"Do you think that, if that is true, Jack's sister can also speak Parseltongue?" She licked her lips. "Or is about gender? It would be interesting to find out," she said. "I know there isn't much literature on the subject."

Most other boys probably would have cut her off to talk about something else, or made her feel ashamed of where her brain was taking her, but not Harry. He easily fell into her rambling, and they practically designed their own study by the time he suggested that they start up to the Castle.

As planned, Harry walked her right up to the staircase leading up to the girls' dormitories and, inexplicably, he suddenly felt nervous. What was wrong with him?

Hermione stood perfectly still in front of him, looking at him through her perfect lashes. "I had a great time today, Harry," she said, offering him the kind of smile that made him think dangerously about just how much he felt for this girl.

"I did too, Granger," he said, stepping towards her. "Thank you for a wonderful day."

She blushed.

"I'm being selfish, I know, but I want to spend more time with you," he said. "Tomorrow? I was thinking that we pack up some food and our books, and spend the day by the Black Lake."

Her brow furrowed. "You do realise that the ground is covered in snow, right? We'll freeze."

Harry shrugged. "You'll have to sit really close to me then," he said easily. "I've been told I'm incredibly warm. And comfortable."

"Who said that?"

"I can't reveal my sources."

She giggled, her eyes meeting his.

"I would say goodnight," he said, smiling lopsidedly; "but I reckon I'll see you in a little while for dinner." He let out a breath. "But that doesn't mean I'm not going to kiss you."

"I would expect nothing else, Potter."

Harry leaned in, decidedly not caring that they weren't remotely close to being the only two people in the Common Room. It was a short, chaste kiss, indicative of the end of their first date, and he couldn't help the smile that took hostage of his face when he pulled back. "Merlin, I love kissing you," he whispered breathily.

"Why?" she found herself asking.

"Don't you know?" he asked, his eyebrows shooting up.

When she shook her head, Harry leaned in again and brought his mouth to her ear.

"Don't you see it, Granger?"

"See what?"

"What I see," he whispered.

Hermione's heart was beating wildly in her chest, her mouth refusing to work.

"And what I see is absolutely beautiful."


	10. After We Have Left Our Homes

**Chapter Ten: After We Have Left Our Homes**

Early on Monday morning, Harry was met by a very firm kiss to his lips right in the middle of the Gryffindor Common Room. He'd been told to wait for Hermione, and he was convinced that he would do anything and everything that she wanted at this point. He was definitely in deep.

"Good morning," Hermione said, smiling up at him.

"Mornin'," he said, laughing lightly. "Someone's chipper this morning. I take it your Charms essay went well then?"

"My mood has nothing to do with my homework, Harry," she said, somewhat seriously.

"Oh really?"

"Really."

"Good," he said, his smile matching hers as he dipped his head to steal another kiss. He definitely wouldn't be able to get over how much of a relief it was not to have to hold himself back from kissing her whenever he wanted. _Those_ had been a torturous few days.

They stood and stared at each other for a long while, both of them sporting matching grins. Yes, the weekend had just happened. Yes, they were now together. Yes, a person _was_ capable of feeling this happy, apparently.

"You know," he eventually said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as they started to head out of the Common Room; "now that we kiss and all the good stuff; I'm afraid that you're going to have to contend with all my Quidditch fangirls."

Hermione laughed that glorious laugh that Harry absolutely adored. He was convinced it was the kind of laugh to end wars.

She felt calm, relaxed, and she didn't have to be a genius to know it had everything to do with Harry Potter. They walked slowly, taking the scenic route as they made their way towards the Great Hall. They passed several students on their way, who stood and gawked at them.

"It's going to be like this all day, isn't it?" Hermione asked.

"Probably," he replied quietly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she said. "We'll just ignore them. They'll get over it eventually, and move onto the next thing. It's the _beauty_ of Hogwarts."

Harry dropped his arm from around her shoulders and stopped walking, bringing her to a halt as well. "Jack doesn't really _know_ , does he?"

She shook her head. "He knows we went to Hogsmeade together," she explained; "and that, well, we were together all of yesterday. But no, he doesn't know that you're my, uh - "

"Boyfriend?" he provided.

Her blush took up most of her face. It was still so foreign to think about, let alone _say_. "Boyfriend," she said with a nod.

He smiled at her. "So, how does it feel to say it out loud? Tell me, tell me."

She slowly put her arms around his shoulders and drew him into a loose hug. "It feels great," she whispered in his ear, and she smiled when he shivered. When she released him, he was looking at her curiously. "What?"

"Nothing," he said quietly. "I'm just - I'm happy, Granger."

This time, she took hold of his hand and started them walking again. She stared down at their entwined fingers from time to time. They fit so perfectly, like they were built to fit together. Maybe his hand still had to grow, and maybe hers as well, but she had the embarrassing thought that they would grow _together_.

Just before they reached the Great Hall, Harry released her hand.

Hermione looked at him, coming to a stop. "You're going to sit with Luna and Neville," she said, reading his facial expression for what it was. It wasn't a question; it was definitely a statement.

"I am," he replied, trying to gage her response to his declaration. "Is that okay?"

Hermione bit her bottom lip. "You want to sit with your friends, and I want to sit with my friends," she said thoughtfully, not adding the ' _most of the time_.' "But I want to sit with you."

"And I want to sit with you too," he hurried to say. "Don't get me wrong, I definitely do."

"But..."

" _But_."

Hermione spent a moment thinking about it. "Okay, we'll do this for now, but I'll think of something," she eventually said.

"I don't doubt it."

She reached up to kiss his cheek. "I'll see you later."

He nodded once, and then watched her walk towards the Gryffindor table with a bounce in her step that hadn't been there the week before. It felt like a dream, really, just all of this that was happening _with Hermione_.

He was happy. Merlin, he was _so damn happy_.

"Are you going inside or what?"

Harry turned to spy Luna looking at him with an amused expression.

"Or are you happy just standing there watching your _girlfriend_?"

Harry blushed automatically. "Hello, you," he said.

"Didn't see you yesterday."

"I was busy," he said.

"With your _girlfriend_."

He laughed. "Are you ever going to get tired of saying it like that?"

"Probably not," she said with a shrug. "Do you have a problem with it?"

"Not at all," he said, as he led the way into the Great Hall. "In fact, I encourage it. Please, do continue to remind me about my oh-so-wonderful girlfriend."

"I think you mean _girlfriend_ ," she practically sang, and then giggled.

Neville looked up when they approached, and also gave Harry a knowing smile. "Ah, so there he is," he said. "How was _your_ weekend?"

"Shut up," Harry said playfully, as he sat down opposite him. These days, they didn't feel the need to sit all in a line, now that it was known that Luna and Neville were Harry the Quidditch player's friends. Whatever that meant. "What did you two get up to?"

Neville cast a look at Luna, then returned his gaze to Harry. "I don't know what our friend here was doing, but I spent some time with Madam Sprout in the greenhouses."

Harry nodded thoughtfully before turning his attention to Luna. "And you, missy? Anything you wish to tell me?"

Luna maintained her poker face well. "There was something I had to do," she said, and that was all she would say on the matter.

Harry could hear a lot unsaid in her words but he wasn't about to ask questions _now_. He suspected that she would tell him eventually, and Harry Potter was truly a patient boy. Most of the time, at least.

"So, what does this mean for us now then?" Neville asked Harry, taking the focus off Luna.

"What do you mean?"

"You and Hermione," he said. "Are you always going to spend your mealtimes apart?"

"To be honest, I don't know," he confessed, resisting the urge to look over his shoulder. "Maybe I'll go there sometimes, and maybe she'll come here," he offered. "I do know that she's thinking of something, so don't be alarmed when she corners you with whatever crazy idea she has."

Harry didn't know just how accurate of a description he'd given until it was lunch time, and Hermione was waiting for him, Luna and Neville at the doors to the Great Hall. She looked a mixture of nervous and excited, and Harry could only guess what the reason for that could be. The day itself was going better than he first anticipated. Maybe people weren't entirely surprised by the fact that Harry and Hermione were now a couple, though they did still stare.

"Come with me," Hermione said.

The trio exchanged worried looks, as she led them towards the Gryffindor table. Harry hid his panic well, particularly when he felt Neville tense up at his left side. What was Hermione trying to do to them?

"Everyone," Hermione said, getting the attention of the Gryffindors in the immediate vicinity. "This is Harry, my boyfriend," she said, the world rolling out of her mouth much easier now. "And this is Luna, and this is Neville; they're my friends." She took a breath. "They are going to be sitting with us from time to time." It was said with such a finality that nobody in their right mind would dare refute Hermione once she had spoken.

Jack started to protest but Hermione shot him a glare that had him rethinking his words.

Hermione sat down first, making Harry sit on her left side, and she made Neville sit on her right. Luna scurried around the table to sit next to Ron, which would have bothered Harry if he weren't already dealing with being Hermione's boyfriend, sitting at a table with Jack right opposite him.

"See," Hermione said after a moment. "Isn't this great?"

Jack grumbled before he turned his gaze on Harry, something like betrayal flashing in his brown eyes. "You can sit here, whatever, but I don't want you anywhere near me, do you hear me? Don't even talk to me."

Harry just nodded as he sat back and tried to relax. It felt odd being here, with all these _other_ people. He was now one of them, and he panicked at the thought. What would his mother say?

But then Hermione took a hold of his hand and squeezed his fingers in support, making him look at her. "You okay?" she mouthed, her features soft and soothing.

He smiled at her, slowly nodding his head. He was Hermione's, and it was better than anything he could have ever hoped for.

 _So much better_.

* * *

"Stop staring at me."

Slowly, a smile spread across Harry's face. "I'm waiting for you to finish reading that so I can tell you something important," he said.

Hermione kept her eyes on the page she was reading as she did complete the paragraph. She waited a beat more before she looked up at him. "What's up?"

"You are adorable when you're concentrating," he said easily, and she practically blushed on command. "The tip of your tongue sticks out, and your brow furrows, and you're so darn cute."

"Harry," she breathed. "We're already dating; there's no need for you to try to convince me."

"So it means I can't compliment you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Because, if it does, you know - "

"It doesn't," she cut him off, and then leaned across the table to kiss him. It was a short, tender kiss that brought a smile to both their faces.

"Will I be awarded with kisses every time I compliment you?" he asked. "Because, if so, you know, I can go on all night."

Hermione blushed that bit more, her gaze dropping down to his stupid smile. It was so easy to lose herself in him; to forget that there was a great big world happening all around them. There was a War brewing; it was coming, _and soon_.

But here she was with her boyfriend, and she was allowed the opportunity to _live_ without stressing about everything that was to come. They were in a bubble, she knew. After the initial interest in their new relationship; things had quieted down. Harry was right about that, at least; they were old news, and Hermione loved it.

"You don't need to compliment me to get kisses, Harry," she said, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "All you have to do is ask."

He tilted his head to the side. "Oh, really, Miss Granger?"

"Really, Mister Potter."

"Well, then, Granger, give us a kiss then." He bat his eyelashes. " _Please_."

Hermione just smiled as she leaned over the table, thinking that this life was definitely one that was worth living.

* * *

"I won't claim to be an expert, but I think there's something bothering my oh-so-beautiful girlfriend."

Hermione glanced over her shoulder at Harry's approaching form as she stood hidden between bookshelves in a quiet section of the library. She'd gone there for a bit of an escape, but of course _he_ would be the one to find her.

She waited until he was standing behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist and his chin resting on her shoulder, to speak. "You are a bit of an expert though, aren't you?"

"I'm definitely trying," he whispered. "Tell me what's wrong."

She sighed heavily, absently relaxing into him. "My parents wrote to me," she said carefully. "They want me to spend Christmas with them in, umm, Austria."

Harry didn't immediately respond. Then: "Are you going to go?" he asked softly.

"How can I deny them if they're willing to try?"

"It's not up to _you_ to make the effort," he said, hugging her a bit tighter.

Hermione wriggled a little. "Can you honestly tell me, Harry, that if your father ever expressed interest in you; you wouldn't consider it?"

Harry pressed his lips together. "I can't speak for myself that way," he said seriously. "As far as I'm aware, James has never _tried_." He sighed. "I'm not saying that you shouldn't go," he said, needing her to know; "I'm saying that you should make sure you're doing it because you _want_ to, and not because of some misplaced guilt you're feeling. They're your _parents_ , Granger; _you're_ not supposed to owe them."

"I know," she said sadly. "I just - what if this is it, Harry? What if I say no now, and that's it for us? I'm not a little girl anymore. I'm growing into this person that they don't know and, if I don't go now; will they _ever_ know me?" She failed to tell him that she sometimes didn't even know herself, though she sometimes suspected that he had an idea. There was just something about Harry Potter - the boy knew things.

"Granger," he whispered.

"It's different with you, Harry, because at least you have your mum and Sirius," she said, a pained sob catching in her throat. "I have nobody. _Nobody_. My parents don't want me; what makes you think the rest of my family will?"

Harry immediately moved to stand in front of her, taking her head in his hands. "Hey, hey," he said, coaxing her into looking at him. "Don't think like that, okay? Stop saying things like that."

"But they're true."

"Hermione," he whispered, almost pleading with her.

She blinked. It was always a shock to her whenever he used her first name; the way it rolled off his tongue as if his entire mouth was designed to say that one word. Whatever he'd intended to say after her name was lost when she reached up to kiss him.

Thank Merlin for library bookshelves.

For hiding them, yes, but also for Harry having something to push her up against. He kissed her thoroughly, having taken over control at some point, his hands sliding up and down her sides until he entwined his fingers with hers.

It was a distraction that went on for close to five minutes before Hermione started to think that their luck was bound to run out and someone was going to catch them. She _was_ a prefect, after all.

She freed her hands and gently pushed on his chest.

Harry was grinning widely when he pulled back. "Hi," he said.

"Hi back."

He kissed her forehead. "I don't have to tell you again, do I?"

She giggled softly. "I think I've got it," she told him, leaning her forehead against his chest and breathing him in. She wasn't sure how she had survived an entire life without him. The way she just fit against him made her think that she was made to be there; made to be _his_.

Harry wrapped his arms around her. "You don't have _nobody_ , Granger," he said softly, his breath brushing against the back of her neck. "You have me."

* * *

Hermione spent a few days thinking about what she was going to do about Christmas. She already informed Professor McGonagall that she wouldn't be spending the Holiday at the Castle because she was supposed to be going to the Burrow anyway.

Molly Weasley wouldn't have it any other way, but Hermione now had another option to consider. And it was a decision she was finding incredibly difficult to make.

Until she just made it.

"I think I'm going to go," Hermione declared at breakfast, drawing the attention of her two sets of friends. Harry was sitting on her left side, his hand already holding hers. She liked to tease him about it; he was such a hand-holder. It was so cute.

"Are you sure?" Luna asked, recovering first.

She nodded. "It's Austria. How can I say no?"

Only Harry knew that she'd truly considered staying in Britain. If not at Hogwarts, then at the Burrow. He'd even told her that she could go home with him if she so desired, which earned him a heart-stopping kiss, _and_ a very polite rejection.

He'd pouted, and she'd kissed him again.

"Can you even ski?" Ginny asked Hermione.

"I actually can," the brunette replied, somewhat proudly. "I learned when I was twelve. It'll probably take a while to get used to it again though."

Conversation continued on around the friends, though Jack and Harry didn't participate. They didn't usually. Harry rather whispered things to Hermione, and Jack whispered things to Ginny and Ron. They sure as hell didn't talk directly to each other.

Hermione always tried a little too hard to involve them all, Harry thought, and he wasn't afraid to tell her. She couldn't _force_ them to be friends, especially when he vehemently didn't want to.

Hermione accepted that. After everything they'd been through; she wasn't naive to think anything as monumental as that could happen. She did think that Harry and Jack _could_ get on if James was taken out of the equation. They were more similar than they both knew, though she kept that to herself.

"Believe me, Harry, I already know that this kind of thing can't be forced," she said, snuggling into his side as they sat on the couch in the Common Room right before dinner. "I'm a big fan of people being exactly who they are. Both my Potters are the strong, silent types."

He hugged her closer. "I'm going to miss you, you know?"

"Are you really?"

"No, not really."

She exaggerated a gasp, and poked him in the side. "You. Are. Horrible."

He just laughed, his eyes meeting hers. He opened his mouth to say something, but her eyes drifted past him to where the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and Ginny stepped through.

"Hey, Gin," Hermione said, unable to stop her giggle. "You'll never believe what Harry just sa - "

"Hermione."

One word, said in that tone, and Hermione stiffened, suddenly sitting up straight. "Ginny?"

Ginny burst out into tears, as she started to mumble incoherently, her knees suddenly buckling.

Hermione stood up immediately, and crossed the Common Room towards her best friend. "Ginny, what's wrong? What's happened?"

Professor McGonagall stepped into the Common Room behind the redhead, and immediately addressed Hermione. "Miss Granger, will you assist Miss Weasley with packing a bag." It wasn't a request; it was a command.

Hermione wanted to ask what was happening, but she forced herself not to and started to lead Ginny towards the dormitories.

Harry stood awkwardly as he watched the scene play out, suddenly feeling heavy. He just knew that something terrible had happened.

"Mr Potter," McGonagall said, addressing Harry. "Will you go upstairs and fetch the other Mr Potter for me? I suspect that young Mr Weasley would appreciate his presence right now."

Harry couldn't stop himself from voicing the question. "What's happened, Professor?" he asked, his voice sounding smaller than he anticipated.

She let out a tired breath. "Arthur Weasley, the Weasley patriarch, has been attacked," she said, choosing to be truthful. She had a feeling that this boy would understand. He was his mother's son, after all.

"By what?" he whispered. Somehow, he just knew that it was a _what_ , and not a _who_.

McGonagall dropped her volume of voice as well, though she was surprised by the fact that he asked 'what;' instead of 'who.' "Voldemort."

Harry's eyes widened, and it felt like he'd been punched in the gut. How could he have allowed himself to forget that Voldemort was still out there? _How dare he_? "Himself?" he asked.

"His snake."

Harry went pale. _His snake_. Harry knew that snake. He'd told Hermione that he sometimes had nightmares about that snake, which was always rather amusing whenever he woke up in a full-body sweat. "Oh," he sounded, his heart stilling.

McGonagall just watched him, his eyes hardening and his body tensing right before her eyes. Like a soldier gearing up for battle.

He cast her one last look before he sprinted up the stairs. "I'll get Jack."

* * *

Harry waited in the Gryffindor Common Room for Hermione's return. Professor McGonagall told him that she would be returning to the Castle before the night was over, and Harry was going to wait for her until she got back.

His eyes started to droop just after one o'clock, but he prevailed until the portrait swung open at two thirty and Hermione Granger stumbled in, accompanied by their Head of House and Jack Potter.

"Mr Potter," McGonagall said, the disapproval in her tone. "It is well after a suitable bedtime."

Harry ignored her as he stood up, moved towards Hermione and immediately took her in his arms. She was trembling, and he could feel her heart beating against his chest.

"Goodnight," Jack said quietly, and then headed up the stairs. He almost sounded relieved that he didn't have to deal with all the emotions in the situation, but there was still something in his voice that Harry couldn't quite place.

McGonagall opened her mouth to admonish the younger Potter again, but decided against it when he ran a soothing hand over Hermione's hair. His eyes met McGonagall's, and the meaning was clear.

The Head of House wasn't needed here any longer.

He would take care of it.

* * *

Arthur Weasley was going to make a full recovery.

Professor McGonagall didn't even give Hermione the chance to ask her question the following morning. The younger witch sought her out first thing, and McGonagall wasn't going to beat around the bush. Arthur Weasley was going to be perfectly fine, if a little sore and embarrassed.

"Are you allowed to tell us what happened?" Harry asked their Head of House, his left hand resting on the small of Hermione's back. It was all the comfort he would offer her while they were in the Great Hall.

McGonagall bristled at the word _allowed_ , but she understood what Harry was asking. They'd been kept in the dark about the happenings of Voldemort, and Harry _wanted to know_.

"Please, Professor?"

She glanced about, making sure that they wouldn't be overheard. "There was an attack at the Ministry," she told them. "Two Order members were present, but Mr Weasley was the only one injured. He is presently at St Mungo's receiving treatment, and it is unlikely that the Weasley children will be returning to school before the New Year."

Harry nodded thoughtfully.

"I suspect that Sirius will give you more details this holiday," she said to Harry. "I'm afraid I don't have more." That said, she turned and headed back towards the teachers' table.

Hermione turned to look at Harry. "There's a lot she's not telling us," she said, stepping closer to him. "Why would Voldemort's snake be at the Ministry? Why _just_ his snake anyway?"

Harry didn't respond. He rather took hold of her hand and led them to the Gryffindor table where Luna and Neville were already waiting for them, ready with their own questions. They were still discussing the Ministry Attack when Jack arrived, looking like he'd barely slept. He hesitated when he spotted the four of them, his eyes darting about as he looked for a way out.

Hermione spotted him and waved him over. "We don't bite," she said, eyeing him.

"Speak for yourself," Luna said, smiling innocently.

Jack cautiously made his way over and took a seat next to Luna, across from Harry and Hermione. He looked a little lost, with his best friend and girlfriend gone. "Uh, good morning," he said awkwardly.

Everyone but Harry greeted him, and Hermione elbowed the raven-haired wizard in the side.

"What?" he asked.

"Be nice."

"But I didn't say anything."

"Exactly."

Harry sighed, before he looked up at Jack. "Mornin'," he grumbled.

Jack took a breath. "You didn't come up to the dormitory last night," he said, his brow furrowed.

"That's my fault," Hermione said, blushing slightly. "I made him stay in the Common Room with me," she explained; "I didn't want to, umm, be alone."

Jack didn't respond to that bit of information, though both Harry and Hermione noticed his clenched jaw. "Did you find out how Arthur is doing?" he asked Hermione.

"He's going to make a full recovery," she informed him. "Gin, Ron and the twins won't be coming back before we're supposed to break up, so, you'll probably see them at the Burrow. You should write to them."

"I will," he said, pouring himself some pumpkin juice.

Harry shifted beside Hermione, mentally willing himself to ask the question he wanted to. "Do _you_ know why Voldemort's snake was at the Ministry?" he asked his brother.

"Why the hell would I know?"

"Don't you know everything?" Harry shot back, suddenly irritated. "You _are_ the Boy-Who-Lived, aren't you?"

Jack scowled. "I don't know, okay? Nobody tells me anything either."

"Why not?"

"How should I know?"

"Don't you ask?"

"Don't you?"

Harry huffed. "Why would they tell _me_ anything?"

The two boys stared at each other for a long while, neither of them saying a word, and then they both burst out laughing, confusing all those around them. Including themselves.

"Why on earth are you laughing?" Hermione asked, looking between the two boys. "Seriously. What did I miss? What is so funny?" She looked helplessly at Luna and Neville. "What is happening right now?"

"Heck if I know," Neville said, shrugging. "Will you please pass the eggs?"

Hermione was still in a bit of shock as she passed Neville the platter in front of her. What could they possibly be laughing about? And, seriously, were her eyes deceiving her or were Jack _and_ Harry laughing _together_?

Though, as quickly as the laughter started, it dissipated, and the five of them settled in to eat their breakfast. Jack seemed to relax that bit more when Dean and Seamus rolled in, and no more conversation passed between him and Harry.

It was a strange new dynamic as they saw out the rest of the term without any of the Weasley children around. Hermione spent more time with Jack, which Harry understood, and didn't complain _too much_. Though, Hermione did appreciate it when he did.

The days went relatively quickly. Hermione's letters to Ginny were replied in brief sentences, but it was enough for the brunette to know that her friend was at least functioning. Hermione was more worried about Ginny than Ron, mainly because Ginny tended to be a bit of a 'daddy's girl.'

There was no news of the attack on Arthur Weasley in the papers, which was expected. With the Ministry avoiding anything remotely related to the Dark Lord, and the Order probably doing something that they weren't supposed to be doing; the attack would remain hidden and probably stay there. Amelia was good for that.

"The one good thing about schooling in Scotland is that I have plenty of clothes to handle the weather in Austria."

Harry barely had time to register his girlfriend's arrival before she was flopping down on the armchair right next to him; half on top of him. Apparently, his chair was hers, and that was perfectly okay with him. "Hello, you," he said, relaxing fully as he continued to recline in the Common Room.

Hermione draped an arm across his chest, her hand resting on his side. "There's something I have to tell you," she said, her tone playful enough to ease his growing panic.

"Where's the body, and do I need a shovel?" he asked.

She giggled, and Harry tried to memorise the sound of it before they would be parting ways for the holiday. "Sometimes I don't even know what to do with you."

"Kissing me will always work," he said slyly, smirking slightly.

"I'll remember that," she said quietly. Then: "I was going to tell you that I'm going to give you your Christmas present when we get back. Is that okay?"

He pretended to think it over, trying to see how long he could go without responding before she lost her patience with him. It was a considerably short time, and she pinched his side to get him talking.

"Granger, you know that you don't have to get me anything," he said gently. "But I guess it's all right." He exaggerated a sigh. "I supposed that I'll have to make do somehow."

There were moments like these when Hermione truly considered what life was now like with Harry Potter. Looking back, she couldn't remember feeling so... _calm_. For so long, she'd been terrified of having anyone actually _know_ her; terrified of having anyone know that she truly wasn't worth the effort. And now, this boy - this truly disarming boy - was looking at her as if there was no other person in the world.

If Harry was surprised when she didn't react to his attempted humour, he didn't show it. Instead, he touched her cheek with his left hand. "Can I tell you something about _your_ present now?"

All she could do was nod.

"It exists; I swear it exists," he said quickly. "It's just that my mother hasn't yet picked it up. But it definitely exists, I promise."

Hermione just smiled at him. "Potter, you know that you don't have to get me anything," she said, imitating him, before leaning in to kiss his cheek. Then: "Excuses, excuses."

He looked at her then, with gentle, knowing eyes. "Is it selfish of me to claim that I don't want you to go?" he asked quietly. "There's just something about knowing you'll be on the continent that makes me feel uneasy."

"Because of Voldemort?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"Not entirely," he confessed. "I don't know; I just don't want you to be so far away... I'm a strange guy, you know?"

"I _do_ know, in fact," she said, smiling at him. "I think I understand what you're trying to tell me."

"You do?"

She nodded. "I'm going to miss you too, Potter."

He chuckled. "Trust you to figure out what I'm trying to say without my actually having to say it. What would I ever do without you?"

"Actually _have_ to articulate yourself?"

He exaggerated a gasp. "You wound me, Granger." Then he leaned towards her and kissed her cheek, trailing his lips along her jaw and down to her neck. "I'm _really_ going to miss you, Hermione," he whispered against her skin, and she shivered, her eyes automatically closing. Her name out of his mouth always made her feel like she was halfway to melting. It was actually rather embarrassing.

Harry kept his face buried in the crook of her neck, just breathing her in as the world continued on around them. He never wanted to move again. He wasn't even aware of the students around them, some of them glancing their way from time to time. He tried not to care and, more often than not, he didn't.

But sometimes he did.

"If Ron were here, he'd tell you both to get a room."

Hermione's eyes snapped open to spy Jack standing over them, sporting a facial expression that she didn't recognise. "What's happened?" she immediately asked, scrambling off of the chair and moving to stand in front of him. "Is it Arthur? Did something happen?"

Jack frowned. "Do you really think that if something more had happened to Arthur, I would have led with telling you to get a room?"

Hermione just about managed a smile. "You have your moments, Jack; so you can't blame me," she said easily, suddenly super-aware of Harry's presence behind her. "Is something wrong?" she asked Jack.

He shifted awkwardly. "Uh," he sounded. "Do you think, umm, I could borrow you for a while?" he asked quietly. "It's just that, well, Ron and Gin are gone, and I, uh..." he trailed off nervously, his left hand moving to rest against the back of his neck.

"Oh."

Jack let out a breath. "But if you're busy..."

Hermione put a hand out to silence him, before she turned to look at Harry, who was watching their interaction with keen interest. She wasn't looking to him for permission, and she just _knew_ that he already knew that. She asked a question with her eyes.

Harry smiled at her. He'd give her anything and everything she ever wanted, truly. "I have to meet Neville and Luna in a bit," he said, getting to his feet. "I should probably start heading over now."

Hermione smiled at him, grateful for his understanding in this moment. She watched him hesitate for a second, as if he wasn't sure if he could kiss her or not before he left, and her heart hurt a little at how unsure he looked. She saved him from the awkwardness by leaning towards him and brushing her lips against his. "Thank you," she whispered.

At that, he smiled brightly, and then he moved around her towards the portrait hole. He spared a glance Jack's way, and they shared a rather significant look. It wasn't a heated one, but there was still something there. Perhaps Harry had given Jack an _actual_ reason not to like him by dating Hermione, and neither boy was sure how to deal with it.

It was much simpler when James was pulling the strings behind his favourite son's hatred.

Harry continued on his way in silence, contemplating whatever it was that he'd seen in Jack's eyes. For the first time, Harry started to think that maybe he'd glimpsed whatever Hermione saw.

He wasn't sure that he liked it.

* * *

The train ride home was, thankfully, uneventful. Once again, Harry, Neville and Luna claimed their own compartment and discussed their plans for the holidays.

Luna, of course, had another expedition planned with her father, and Harry had to kick Neville's shin to stop him from commenting. Neville was going home to Longbottom Manor to spend the holidays with his grandmother, and it was easy to see that he wasn't looking forward to it. Harry made a mental note to see if maybe Sirius or his mum could rescue him at some point.

Harry was going home to Surrey to spend the holidays with his mother; and probably Sirius as well.

Hermione stopped by their compartment a few times, staying for a few minutes at a time. Harry could tell that the moving back and forth was stressing her out, and he didn't want to add to whatever she was already feeling about spending the holidays with her parents. He could hear the strain in her voice, and the way she couldn't bring herself to sit still for any amount of time.

Eventually, Harry just told her that he would see her when they arrived in London. She looked hurt for a moment, before her face took on an expression of relief, and she gave him a lingering kiss right in front of his best friends. When she was gone, he had to deal with their teasing and ribbing, but it was so worth it. Kisses from Hermione were pure gold, and he was going to have to survive the entire Christmas Break without them somehow.

As expected, the Platform was packed with families coming to pick up their children. Harry, Neville and Luna checked their compartment for any items left behind, ensured they had their shrunken trunks, and then made their way off the train together.

Harry's eyes immediately searched for Hermione. When he spotted her standing with Jack and his family, he felt something twist in his gut, but he just about managed to squash it down. He _knew_ she wouldn't leave without saying goodbye to him, which was enough to get him searching for his own parent.

The trio spotted Neville's grandmother first - her hat was unmissable, truly. After a quick goodbye, Harry and Luna next encountered Xeno Lovegood, and the sight of him made Harry shake his head. What was it with witches and wizards and their garish attire? It hurt his eyes, honestly.

Luna barely managed to hug Harry goodbye, instructing him to take care of himself and say goodbye to Hermione for her, before Xeno was whisking her away on whatever adventure he had planned.

Harry allowed himself to think that maybe Neville was right, and that something needed to be done. But what? What could they possibly do? Xeno was her father, and Luna absolutely adored him.

Harry, once again, searched the crowds, spied Sirius after a few moments, and then rushed towards him.

"What on earth happened to your hair?" Harry asked by way of greeting. This had to be a recent thing, because even the papers hadn't reported on it.

Sirius chuckled. "Well, hello to you too," he said, dragging the young wizard into a quick hug. "What? Don't you like it?"

"It's, uh, definitely different," he said coyly.

"Oi," Sirius said, gently shoving his shoulder. "Now, where's that girlfriend of yours?"

Harry glanced to a spot behind him where Hermione was still standing with Jack and his welcoming party. This time, he felt a pang of jealousy, though he couldn't be certain what it was for. "She'll be along," he eventually said to Sirius. "Where's Mum?"

"Working," he replied. "She wants to get everything done tonight so she can focus all her attention on you for the rest of the holiday."

Harry nodded in understanding. "She missed me, didn't she? Tired of just you, huh?"

"I'm a hoot," he said, sniffing the air. "We have so much fun when you're not around."

"Keep telling yourself that, Padfoot."

Sirius couldn't stop himself from pulling Harry into another, much longer, hug. He really had missed the kid, and he was unafraid to let him know. "Incoming," he suddenly said, and dropped his arms from around Harry.

Harry was confused until he heard a throat clearing. Jack's sounded exactly like James'; it was uncanny. Harry turned around to see Hermione standing with Jack, James, Jack's mother and his little sister. An entire welcoming party.

"Sorry to interrupt," James said, his eyes narrow and his jaw clenched.

"James," Sirius said curtly.

Harry ignored their exchange in favour of looking at Hermione, even pulling her aside and away from _that_ situation. "Are your parents here?" he asked quietly.

She glanced around, suddenly nervous. "I've been instructed to call for a car to take me to the airport," she explained. "Jack and his parents volunteered to wait with me."

Harry frowned. "Your parents aren't picking you up?"

"It's my understanding that they're already in Austria," she said, her voice so low that Harry took a step towards her - and, as a result, towards James. "My ticket is waiting for me at Heathrow. I'll pick it up when I get there."

"I don't like this," he said, shaking his head.

"It is what it is."

"It's not okay."

Sirius put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "What's this I hear about taking a car to Heathrow?" he asked, looking at Hermione. "Why, hello, Miss Granger."

"Hullo," she said quietly.

Harry briefly explained the situation to Sirius, who also shook his head in mild disgust.

"That simply will not do," he said beseechingly. "We'll take you to the airport ourselves."

"We will?" Harry asked.

"We will," Sirius declared. "We have nothing better to do until your mum is done with whatever it is that she's doing, and how can I possibly pass up the opportunity to tease you both mercilessly."

"Sirius," Harry muttered.

He laughed lightly. "Tell me that you don't want to spend just a little bit more time with this lovely lady."

Harry looked at Hermione, who was already looking at Sirius.

"You know that you don't have to," she began.

"Nonsense," Sirius said. "It's decided."

"What's decided?" James asked, butting in.

Sirius was about to explain - which may or may not have included a retort - but Hermione beat him to it. She knew how to work James Potter; she had to make sure that he understood that this decision was about _her_ , and not about Harry or Sirius.

"I appreciate your offer to wait with me," she said sweetly; "but Harry and Sirius have offered to take me to Heathrow themselves as they're both free, which seems like a much better idea. It'll save time as well, because I don't even know what time my flight is."

It took a bit more convincing, but Hermione eventually got her way. She usually did.

Harry watched as she bid Jack and his family goodbye, and then turned to look at him expectantly. "You okay?" she asked, noticing the slight frown on his face.

"They didn't say goodbye," he said.

Hermione glanced back at the retreating figures of the Potter family, and then returned her attention to Harry. "I'm sorry," she said sadly, taking hold of his hand and squeezing his fingers.

"It's nothing I'm not used to," he said with a shrug. "Shall we?"

Hermione shifted her hold on his hand, and rather gripped his arm as they walked, Sirius leading the way out of King's Cross Station. The older wizard pretended to have forgotten where he parked the car, which neither teen found very amusing.

"Jeez," he muttered; "tough crowd."

True to his word, Sirius teased them without caution. He wasn't even trying to filter what he was saying, and the two teenagers spent the entire trip to the airport sporting varying degrees of deep red blushes.

The airport was even more chaotic than King's Cross Station, but Hermione knew what she was doing, Harry and Sirius just following. Sirius was the one to expand her trunk, and then she was getting herself checked in and asking for a window seat.

It was fortunate that Sirius and Harry had brought her, because there wasn't much waiting time before she had to go into the terminal for boarding. She'd waited as long as she could with the two wizards, and she couldn't have been more thankful for the company.

Hermione said goodbye to Sirius first, thanking him for the lift, and wishing him a happy Christmas. She also told him that she liked the new look, and she was looking forward to hearing all about how it was working out with Lily. Both of them ignored Harry's confused look at the sound of that.

Saying goodbye to Harry was an entirely different thing. Just from the look in his eyes, she had half a mind to abandon her trip and spend Christmas with him. It would have been so easy... but no. She vowed to try.

"Promise you'll write," she said, squeezing his hands.

"I promise," he replied easily. "And you'll call, right?"

"I promise," she echoed.

She leaned forward slightly. "I'm going to miss you."

Harry glanced over his shoulder at Sirius, knowing that he was definitely going to be teased mercilessly for what he was about to say. "I'm going to miss you too," he whispered, hoping that Sirius didn't hear him.

Hermione just shook her head, before she initiated a rather heated, goodbye kiss. She left him standing there, utterly dazed and sporting a goofy grin. Sirius had to shake him to bring him back, and the older wizard laughed out loud.

Harry blinked a few times, regaining his bearings, and then he shrugged. "At least I have a girlfriend," he said, as he started to lead the way out of the airport.

Sirius followed. "Low blow, Harry; that's a truly low blow."

* * *

Lily wasn't at home when Sirius and Harry arrived. Even though Sirius didn't officially live in the modest three-bedroom home, he had his own key. Once inside, Harry accepted Sirius' offer to expand his trunk _downstairs_ , and then proceeded to drag it up to his bedroom. Something about being back in the Muggle world and all that.

While Harry unpacked his things, Sirius started on dinner. The two of them were just sitting down at the kitchen table when Lily arrived, looking particularly exhausted. Though, her haggard facial expression vanished the second she laid eyes on her son, and she practically flung herself at him. Harry didn't even try to get out of her embrace, realising that she needed this moment.

He did too, though he'd never say it out loud.

"Welcome home," she said, before releasing him so that she could get a good look at him. He looked well. Even, she dare say, _happy_.

"We made dinner," Sirius said, catching her attention. "And hello to you too, Lily."

She laughed lightly, placing one hand on Sirius' shoulder, and the other on Harry's. "Both my boys," she said softly. "It's good to have you both home."


	11. A Girl Worth Fighting For

**Chapter Eleven: A Girl Worth Fighting For**

Harry practically flung himself at the phone the second he heard it ring. "I got it!" he yelled out to the house, before he took a deep breath and answered. "Hello?"

"Hey, Boyfriend."

He felt his entire body relax at merely the sound of her voice. "And how is the most beautiful girl in Austria doing?"

"I'm great… but I miss you so much."

Harry could hear a hint of sadness in her voice and it hurt his heart. "I miss you too, Granger," he admitted. "Tell me, what amazing things have you been getting up to with your parents?"

"I've barely seen my parents," she informed him quietly. "My parents would rather throw cash at me and send me on my way than spend any time with me. I'm essentially having a very expensive holiday by myself."

"Oh Granger," he breathed.

"It's okay," she said, but he could hear very clearly that it wasn't. It _obviously_ wasn't and he hated her parents for doing this to her. "It's not all bad," she continued. "I ski in the mornings. I'm pretty good at it too. I'm thinking of learning how to snowboard. The instructors are rather good-looking as well."

"Granger." He was finding it difficult not to be amused.

"What? They are," she said, giggling. "And their accents are _very_ attractive."

"If you're trying to make me jealous, it's working," he muttered.

"Oh, don't you worry, Harry Potter, I have eyes for only you," she assured him. "And plus, I spend the rest of the day watching movies in my room and ordering room service like it's going out of fashion. I hope you'll still like me when I look like a whale."

"Oh, I'm sure I will," he said with a laugh.

She went quiet on the other end of the line.

"Granger?"

"I wish I'd never left," she said so softly that he had to strain to hear her. "Even being back at Hogwarts would be so much better than this."

His heart positively ached for her. "You'll be back home before you know it," he said, unable to inject any enthusiasm into his voice.

"I can't wait," she whispered, her voice falling flat. "Anyway," she sounded, clearing her throat. "I should probably go. I'll call tomorrow to wish you properly, okay?"

He wanted to say so many things, but the words just wouldn't come. He could hear that she didn't want him to say them either - she wouldn't believe them, either way.

"Okay," he finally said, sounding defeated.

"I miss you, Harry."

"I miss you too."

There was a long pause. "Bye, Potter." And then she hung up.

Harry wasn't sure what he was feeling but he knew that he hated it. How was he supposed to enjoy his Christmas when his girlfriend sounded so miserable?

"Harry?"

He turned towards the sound of his mother's voice. "Hey, Mum," he said quietly.

"Is everything okay? Was that Hermione? Is she okay?"

He sighed. He knew he could talk to his mother about this. She knew things. She would understand. "Your parents weren't too supportive of you when you were pregnant with me, were they?"

If Lily was surprised by the question, she didn't let on. "You could say that, yes," she said slowly. "They thought your father and I were too young and, I suppose, in the Muggle world, maybe we were... We also weren't even married, so that was part of it. Why are you asking?"

"Even though they weren't around when I was born... before they passed away; did you think about them? I mean, did you miss them? Would you have done anything to have them accept you again?"

Lily felt a bit uncomfortable with this line of questioning and she honestly had no idea how this all related to anything, let alone Hermione. "Harry?" she queried.

"Would you?"

"Not anything," she admitted. He was old enough to understand what that meant. "I still have you."

He nodded his head. "That was Granger," he told Lily. "She's missing home. Her parents, umm, aren't exactly giving her the attention she deserves. They don't usually, and yet she flew halfway across the world to be with them. I hate that they're making her regret it."

"Oh."

Harry looked at his mother. "I'm sorry about how your relationship with your parents ended, Mum," he said. "If I could have made it better for you, I would have."

She moved towards him and drew him into a loose hug. "You do make it better, sweetheart. Every day."

He hugged her back, squeezing her tighter than usual. "How do I make it better for her?" he asked, almost pleading with her to give him all the answers.

"I don't think there will ever be one failsafe thing that could magically fix everything," she explained to him. "Just let her know that you care about her," she paused; "that you might even love her."

He blushed, his mouth already open to refute her assumption. He _did not_ love Hermione Granger. Did he? Goodness, they'd _just_ started dating.

But still, something forced him to ask a different question: "Mum, I kissed her and she bolted. What do you think is going to happen if I tell her that I might love her?"

"When you tell her, Harry; you have to be sure," she said, a warning in her tone. "There shouldn't be any _might_ about it. Based on what you've told me about her life at home; she's probably wary of her relationships turning into the ones she has with her parents. So if you're going to go all in, you have to be sure."

"I will be."

Lily noted that he said it so strongly, so confidently, that she was inclined to believe him. "Good," she said; "now come help me with the sauce before Sirius decides to make that disaster he tried last year."

Harry could only laugh at the memory as he followed his mother into the kitchen, his mind already coming up with ideas on how to welcome Hermione home the right way.

* * *

Christmas itself was a rather uneventful affair for Lily, Sirius and Harry. They usually spent it together, at Lily and Harry's home in Surrey, which, incidentally, was the house that Lily grew up in with her own parents and the sister that she very rarely spoke to. It didn't matter that they lived less than seven kilometres away from each other; there may as well have been three thousand kilometres between them.

It seemed that Lily's parents died before they were able to change their wills and, really, Lily's sister wasn't interested in the family home. At the time, Lily had no choice, and now she couldn't imagine living anywhere else.

Harry, admittedly, spent most of his Christmas Break thinking about Hermione and, as a result, he couldn't really get into the _cheer_ of the holiday. It just didn't sit well with him that he could have such a great Christmas while his girlfriend was positively miserable. He didn't think that he could hate two people more than he hated Hermione's parents in that moment; and he _was_ the bastard son of James Potter, so it really was saying a lot.

Harry wouldn't claim that the entire holiday was a waste, because he was able to see his mother and Sirius continue to dance around each other, as if they both didn't know that they were both hopelessly in love with each other. If it wasn't so terribly heartbreaking; Harry might have found it amusing. At times, he thought that they were holding out for his sake, but he'd told each of them repeatedly - and separately - that he would be okay with it if ever they decided that they wanted to try. At this point, he decided that _he_ wasn't the one stopping them; it was themselves.

Or maybe there was more to it. There seemed to be more to everything these days.

Harry's questions about Voldemort largely went unanswered. Lily, obviously, didn't know as much as Sirius, because she refused to be actively involved in the Order of the Phoenix. She offered her skills in potion-brewing and spell-crafting, but she would never step foot into their Headquarters. She _refused_ to put herself in a situation where she had to interact with James Potter or his wife.

At the apex of the Second Wizarding War, she'd even been accused of not participating in the fight enough from within the Order, which resulted in a rather heated row between Sirius and those who thought voicing their opinions would be a good idea. When Sirius threatened to pull his funding from the Order; mouths were clamped and idiots were appeased.

Despite his irritation with being shut out of any and all Order business; Harry did appreciate the things that his mother and Sirius did tell him. He knew that Arthur Weasley was released from St Mungo's, and was recovering well with his family at home. He knew that Voldemort was planning something, but apparently the Order didn't even know _what_.

Harry didn't tell anyone that he sometimes got the impression that _he_ knew. It was a stupid notion, of course, but he couldn't help it. After everything that happened with the snake; he got the feeling that if he'd actually taken the time to decipher his cryptic dreams, he might have been able to stop Mr Weasley from getting injured. He couldn't fathom how or even why he felt it, but it was a niggling thought that was refusing to go away.

He made a note to discuss it with Hermione when she returned. Really, he couldn't wait to see her. He never expected that he would be this kind of boy, and his mother found it rather amusing that he moped around the house as much as he did, merely counting the days.

In what felt like a truly short time, Hermione Granger reached a level of importance in his life that was probably quite dangerous. He couldn't recall the exact moment when everything changed, but she was now the most important. She truly was.

Because she was in Austria, Hermione moved into the New Year first, and she made sure to call him from it. They spent the entire call giggling, and she admitted to having a glass of champagne - or three - during the festivities. Apparently her parents hadn't been paying enough attention. The responsible girl he knew probably would have stopped after one - or even had none at all - but he suspected that she was silently rebelling, or just seeking _some_ attention from her parents. It was rather heartbreaking.

But, then again, a tipsy Hermione was bloody amusing.

Harry would have listened to her ramble on and on about all the things that were bothering her - the stars shining too bright; the music from the neighbouring room making her walls dance and so forth - but she fell silent about fifteen minutes into the call, and it took him another thirty seconds to realise that she'd fallen asleep.

"Happy New Year, Hermione," he whispered to her. "I lo - " he stopped suddenly. Was he really going to tell her that he loved her? Did he? Was he _sure_?

He had to be, because he was certain that he was going to have to convince her of it. He had to be able to look her in the eye and ensure her that there wasn't even the slightest uncertainty in his feelings.

"I miss you," he eventually said, finally settling on something safer. "I'll see you when you get back."

* * *

Hermione sought out Harry as soon as she boarded the train. Despite being away from all her friends for the entire Break; he was the first person she wanted to see, and she wasn't even embarrassed by it.

She found him in a compartment near the end of the train, already sitting with Luna and Neville. At the first sight of him through the door's window pane, she practically burst through the door and all but fell into his waiting arms, and squeezed the life out of him. He felt different, stronger somehow. _Surer_.

It didn't matter; she wasn't letting him go.

"Hello to you too, Hermione," Luna said, sounding amused. "How was your Break?"

Hermione breathed into Harry's chest one last time, before she stood up straight and turned to the Ravenclaw. "Hi, Neville. Hi, Luna," she said easily, her grip on Harry's waist never faltering. "It was definitely an interesting one. How was yours?"

"Great!" Luna exclaimed, before Neville could even begin to open his mouth to reply. "We think we're getting close."

"Close to what?"

Harry raised a hand to stop the girls' conversation. "Okay, before the two of you get into _that_ conversation; I think I'd like to give my girlfriend her Christmas present now."

Hermione turned her gaze on him. "What? No. Yours is still in my trunk. We're going to have to do this later, Potter."

"But I want you to open it now."

"Later, Harry."

He sighed heavily. "Fine."

She couldn't resist kissing his cheek. "It'll be worth it. I promise."

If they'd been alone, Harry might have done something stupid and pulled her flush against him to kiss her senseless. But, alas, they weren't alone, which was why he slipped his hand into hers and tugged her down to sit next to him. He just wanted her close to him.

"I've missed you," he whispered.

Hermione leaned into his side, soaking up the warmth of him and enjoying the sound of his breathing. She'd been without meaningful human contact since she bid him farewell at the airport, and she wasn't going to waste a second of it. "I've missed you too," she replied in a whisper. "Though, I won't be able to stay that long." It was a little heartbreaking to see his face fall but she pushed through it. "I have a prefects' meeting to attend," she explained, and she felt his body relax slightly. "And probably a patrol."

"Oh, the joys of being a prefect," Luna said, sighing dramatically. "What a terrible, horrible life!"

Hermione giggled, as she turned towards the blonde. "You know, Luna, I'm convinced that you'd be a great prefect," she said happily.

Luna rolled her eyes. "Oh, of course," she said. "Imagine my having to tell my classmates what to do. It'd be a nightmare."

"They'd never take you seriously," Neville commented, speaking for the first time since Hermione's arrival and the entire compartment seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. Harry never did quite understand the dynamic that was Hermione and Neville, and he doubted he'd be able to start now.

"And why is that, Neville?" Luna asked, her voice taking on a bit of an edge.

Neville didn't hear the warning in her voice, and innocently ploughed ahead. "It's because you're so tiny," he said. "Like a little pixie."

"I resent that," she huffed.

"But a cute pixie," he said, and then he froze, realising what he'd said. Neville looked like a deer caught in headlights. Did he just say that out loud?

Luna looked a little bewildered, but she decided not to comment, choosing rather to move the conversation along. She started to tell them about her most recent expedition with her father. It was, of course, unsuccessful, but she sounded as if she were happy about it.

Harry and Hermione kept exchanging knowing looks. Neville _definitely_ liked Luna.

After a few minutes, Hermione told them that she had to go. She kissed Harry's cheek again, whispered that she would be back soon, and then left the compartment; all of them watching her go. Harry shook off his suddenly empty feeling, and asked Luna to go on about her holiday.

In the end, Hermione didn't end up coming back to their compartment. Harry tried not to think about it too much as the Express pulled into Hogsmeade Station. He tried to spot her as they made their way up to the Castle, searching the top of the crowds for the bushy brown hair he knew a little too well, but he didn't spot her.

And, what was worse, was that Hermione didn't make it to dinner in the Great Hall either. He noted that neither did Ginny, and his mind took him to a scenario where Mr Weasley actually _wasn't_ okay. But then he spotted Ron and the twins, looking perfectly content, and his relief quickly turned to confusion. Where was she? He couldn't squash the terrible feeling he had in his gut, and it made eating terribly uncomfortable for him.

It was only when he was back in Gryffindor Tower that he learned what had happened. Apparently, it was now the talk of the Castle that Jack Potter and Ginny Weasley had broken up over Christmas. It was such a strange bit of news that Harry wasn't sure what to make of it.

He didn't actively ask for information, but the rumour mill was already running, and there were some truly preposterous reasons for the breakup being perpetuated. Harry decided it was best to wait and see if someone would eventually set things straight before he believed that Ginny broke up with Jack because she blamed him for her father's injuries.

Hermione made an appearance in the Common Room just moments before curfew. She looked haggard and completely defeated. Her eyes sought out Harry, who she wasn't surprised to note was already looking at her, seated on their couch with a concerned look on his face. Thankfully, the room was practically empty, with a few Sixth-Years huddled around a table, working on a project.

She'd barely taken a few steps towards him when he was up on his feet and drawing her into a tight hug. It truly was just what she needed, and she clutched onto him for quite some time. When they eventually released each other, Harry spoke first.

"Are you okay?"

"Sort of," she admitted. "This whole thing is just so weird. I mean, I assume you heard what happened."

He nodded once, taking hold of her hand and leading her back towards the couch.

Once they were settled down next to each other, Hermione continued with the explanation. "I mean, they're both really stubborn, so I figure they'll get back together eventually... Right?"

Harry wasn't sure if he should respond, so he just made a non-committal sound.

"She expected more," she said quietly. "After what happened to her father, she expected more from him; more comfort; more understanding. But that isn't really Jack. I think she sees the way that you are with me, and she realised that that isn't what she gets with Jack. He didn't really treat her that well. I guess they fought about it, and the breakup was decided on in the heat of the moment."

"That's why you think they'll get back together?"

"They love each other."

Harry didn't actually think so and, frankly, from Hermione's tone of voice; it was clear that she didn't think so either.

"I'm sorry I didn't come back to the compartment," she said. "Ginny's kind of demanded my full attention. She's claiming that she wins me in the breakup." She risked a smile. "I haven't actually spoken to Jack about it. Do you think they'll make me choose?"

Harry didn't know how to answer that. "Would you, if they did?"

"Definitely not," she said quickly. "I just - it's going to be awkward and weird for a while, isn't it?"

"Probably."

She leaned into his side, her head dropping to his shoulder. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Granger, you know that you can tell me anything."

She let out a long breath. "I am so happy to be back," she whispered. "I missed school, sure, and I missed my friends, but I really missed _you_ , Harry, and I just now figured out why." She looked him in the eye. "It's because, when I'm with you, I feel _seen_. It's terrifying, and I'm still working through all of that, but I just want you to know that, out of everyone I know, I missed you the most."

Harry dropped a kiss onto the top of her head, but opted to say nothing in response. He didn't think that she expected him to reply, and maybe it was better if they allowed the silence to surround them; to embrace them. He'd missed her too and, truly, he was surprised that she'd admitted so much to him out loud. She didn't normally vocalise her deeper feelings, and he was glad for this progress she seemed to be making.

He was the one to break their silence though, solely with the intention of making her smile. "I know you've had a tough day and all but, you know, you did kind of promise me a Christmas present."

Hermione couldn't stop her laugh, and Harry felt the vibrations of it through his own body. "I actually have it right here in my pocket," she said, digging around in the right pocket of her robes. "You're not allowed to laugh though."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

The present was small, in a palm-sized box, wrapped with all the care in the world. Harry took it from her and just stared at it.

Hermione giggled. "Aren't you going to open it?"

He took a quick breath, before he opened it. He was very aware of Hermione's eyes on him, just waiting for his reaction.

Hermione wasn't disappointed.

Harry's mouth dropped open. "Hermione?"

It was always a little too much to bear whenever he said her first name. His mouth was designed to say it, she was so sure of it.

"This is - wow. Granger, just wow."

Hermione just stared at his face, her focus never straying. "It's not that I think you actually need it," she told him. "You're really very punctual. It's just - "

"I love it," he said, cutting her off, as he reached into the box to retrieve the wooden watch.

"The case is made from real bamboo," she informed him, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. "And the design is really minimal, because, you know, you're not exactly, flashy, which is just one of the things that I like about you." She looked a little embarrassed. "It's fully mechanical, so you shouldn't have any trouble in the Castle. Do you really like it?"

"I do," he was quick to say, immediately putting it on his left wrist. "Now I won't have to use your watch anymore."

"It's a travesty."

"Thank you, Granger," he said, looking at her. And then he was kissing her, his mouth moving over hers with practiced ease. He might have kissed her for hours, if she didn't push on his chest to get a much-needed breath of air.

"Okay, okay," she said, laughing lightly. "It's my turn now... Where's my present, Potter?"

He just grinned at her.

Hermione wiped his mouth with her fingers, and then raised an eyebrow at him. "Harry Potter?"

For a moment, he didn't move, and then he was fishing for her present in his own robes. His box was smaller than hers. "I'm a little bit worried," he told her.

"Why?"

"You'll see."

Hermione didn't waste as much time as he did opening her present. His left leg was literally vibrating with his excitement and nerves. She opened the small jewellery box to reveal a silver necklace with a double pendant with encrusted crystals.

"The 'H' is for Hermione," he was quick to say, reaching for the necklace so he could put it on for her. She shifted her hair out of the way, and he gently clasped it behind her neck. "And the peace sign is because, well, you're - " he dropped his gaze " - you're my peace, Hermione."

She just stared at him. Words usually seemed to fail her whenever he used her first name.

"Like, when I'm with you, the rest of the world doesn't matter," he explained, running a gentle finger down the length of her neck. "Only you do."

This time, it was Hermione's turn to kiss him. She had to, really, because she might have started to cry if she didn't. Boys like him didn't exist. They just didn't, and she was trying to tell him that without having to use the words.

They broke apart at the sound of a loud squeak. Ginny Weasley was standing in the archway leading to the girls' dormitories, looking at them with an expression that neither of them recognised; or particularly liked.

"Sorry," the redhead suddenly said, and then sprinted back up the stairs, leaving Harry and Hermione in absolute silence.

"That was... odd," Hermione said.

Harry let out a breath. "You should probably learn to control yourself," he said, and she laughed, her fingers automatically reaching to play with the pendants of her necklace.

"Are you sure the 'H' is for Hermione, and not for Harry?" she asked, eyeing him curiously.

"Believe what you want to believe, Granger."

"It's just that, if it were really _my_ name, wouldn't you have got a 'G?'"

He laughed out loud. "Oh, Granger," he whispered, the fingers of his right hand playing with loose strands of her hair. "I really missed you. I really did."

"I missed you too, Harry." She smiled widely. "And thank you for my present. I really do love it, even though you've pretty much _marked_ me as yours."

He laughed nervously, raking a hand through his unruly hair. He didn't want her to think that he'd got her the necklace because he wanted to 'claim' her or anything ridiculous like that. He didn't do it because he wanted _others_ to see that she was his. He bought the necklace for _her_ , and her alone.

Okay, maybe a little bit for him. Because she _was_ wearing _his_ present.

Hermione eventually tucked the necklace behind her shirt collar. Jewellery wasn't exactly part of the school uniform, but she vowed never to take it off. She'd keep it hidden when in her uniform. She still hadn't decided if she'd keep it hidden other times as well. Really, she was all for avoiding conflict.

Harry allowed them to drift into comfortable silence for a while, his brain mulling over whether or not he really did get 'H' for her or for him. It was a while before he decided to break the quiet. Their first day back hadn't exactly gone to plan, but he couldn't forget the reasons behind the fact that he hadn't seen her since before Christmas.

"Do you want to talk about your holiday?" he asked gently.

Hermione sighed heavily. "There isn't much to talk about, Harry," she said simply. "I flew to Austria to spend time with my parents, and that isn't what ended up happening. I can't say that I'm surprised."

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I know you think that this was your last chance, but I don't choose to believe that."

She blinked rapidly, suddenly fighting off a fresh wave of tears. She'd cried enough over the Break. When she managed to wrangle control of it, she spoke again. "I don't know which is worse, Harry," she said thoughtfully; "neglect or outright hate."

"Neither," he answered. "Though, I'm sure it would help if there was an actual reason."

She nodded in agreement. "I've spent years coming up with all these scenarios, you know, for the reason that they just don't see me. I can't even blame the magic, because it started before that."

"Maybe not everyone is cut out to be a parent," he offered.

"Maybe."

They fell silent again, each of them mulling over their own thoughts. Harry wanted to do anything to make her feel better, and Hermione just wanted to do anything not to feel like this anymore. Both of them would probably be unsuccessful.

"Granger?"

Her eyes met his.

"Everything is going to be all right," he said slowly, strongly. "You'll see."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I'm not."

She shook her head. "Then how am I supposed to believe you?"

"Who else are you going to believe?"

Her eyes narrowed for a moment, before she rewarded him with a small smile. "One of us has to be the optimist, I suppose."

"I'm not an optimist," he said.

"Then what are you?"

"I like to think of myself as a realist, to be perfectly honest."

"And your realism is telling you that everything is going to be all right?"

Harry didn't need to see her face to know she was skeptical - he could practically hear it in her tone of voice. "No," he said seriously, his hand reaching for hers. "My realism is telling me that it's okay to _believe_."

* * *

It was weird for all of them after the breakup.

Ginny ended up requiring more of Hermione's attention and the brunette was always needed to break the tension between Jack and Ginny during meals. Ron's comedic relief just wasn't enough when it came to the two of them. They were both hotheads and, now that Jack had one less person around to keep him grounded; _things_ were bound to happen.

Because of Hermione's position between her two friends, she didn't have as much time to spend with Harry, or with Luna and Neville, and that was the part she hated the most. It was strange for her. She'd never really missed someone's company as much as she missed Harry's. She didn't even think that she missed her parents as much as she missed him, and he was in the same Castle as her. He was, undoubtedly, her safe place, and she was terrified of relying on him the way that she did. So much so that her fears sometimes paralysed her.

He told her of his nightmares, but she'd never told him of hers. Nightmares that included his realising whatever her parents had, and leaving her as well. It was always a surprise whenever his face lit up when he spotted her, or whenever he actively made plans to spend time with her. He wasn't with her because of some shared trauma, or by some misplaced guilt. He was with her because he _wanted_ to be.

But now that Jack and Ginny were no longer together, she couldn't ignore her very real fear that her time with Harry was over. She got antsy every time that he spoke about Ginny, or even whenever he looked at her. She hated that she was so insecure about it but she was powerless to stop what she felt. To anyone who knew even a bit about either of them; it was clear that they were better suited for each other than she and Harry were.

She felt it every time he mentioned something about Quidditch or when he talked about a bit of Wizarding popular culture that she just didn't understand. Her mind always told her that Ginny would have understood, and it was debilitating. She didn't _want_ to be thinking this way, but she couldn't help it. It was only a matter of time, and she was sorely tempted to end it with him before he ever got the chance to. Her anxiety over it all was threatening to ruin them both.

But then he would look at her with something like fascination in his eyes, and she wanted to berate herself for ever thinking that he no longer wanted her. It was a vicious cycle of twisting emotions, and she recognised the moment that Harry first noticed her constant fight to stop herself from pulling away from him.

Both his gaze and his touch started to linger, as if he could somehow convey to her that he wasn't going anywhere without having to say the words in answer to her unspoken worries. He didn't have to ask. The boy just knew. He was so gentle and so attentive; it was sometimes heartbreaking. How could she have gone her entire life without being with him like this? How could _anyone_?

And maybe that was it. He was too good to be true, and Hermione definitely wasn't that lucky.

Hermione didn't want to be the person who worried like this but she couldn't help it, which was the main reason why she decided that she needed to talk to him about it. They could talk to each other. That, at least, was one thing she could be assured of: she and Harry could talk about nearly everything. Nearly.

"What?" Harry asked, sensing her hesitation when she got his attention. He stood up from the table in the library and shuffled around it to stand in front of her. The library was empty enough that their movements and conversation were going unnoticed - well, as unnoticed as Harry Potter and Hermione Granger could go. "Granger, what's wrong?"

Her gaze dropped down to her hands in front of her.

"Look, if you're worried about your marks for the Ancient Runes assignment; I already told you that you have nothing to worry about," he said, trying to coax her into talking to him. "I reckon you'll get a hundred and fifty percent."

"It's not that," she said softly. "But thanks for saying that."

He stepped closer to her, lifting her chin with his forefinger so she would look at him. "It's okay to need me, you know?"

She frowned slightly. "Hmm?"

"I'm your boyfriend, Granger. You can ask me to do things for you. You're allowed to need me. I promise I won't let you down. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere, all right?"

She blinked. "Harry?"

"You can need Neville and Luna too; even my mum and Sirius," he assured her. "I know that you're fiercely independent but you're important to us and you have to know that we'd do anything for you. So it's okay to need us."

Despite herself, Hermione started to cry and, if he were to ask, she probably wouldn't be able to tell him why. What on earth was wrong with her?

After slight panic on Harry's part, he pulled her into a tight hug. Tight enough to hurt, and she even squeaked to get out of his embrace. "What's going on?" he asked, wiping a tear off her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "Talk to me."

"It's stupid."

"Maybe it is," he said; "but tell me anyway."

"It's Ginny," she finally said, starting in what she deemed a safe place. "She's getting even more snarky with me and I think it's because she feels like I'm not spending enough time with her. Which is totally hypocritical of her because, when she was dating Jack, I barely saw her, and do you hear me complaining?"

Harry laughed lightly, drawing her into another, much looser, hug. "I don't blame her though," he admitted. "I was already missing you and I saw you an hour ago."

Hermione had to kiss him, her arms snaking around his neck. An hour really was a long time to miss somebody, wasn't it?

When they broke apart, he was grinning at her like the teenage boy he was.

Hermione wiped his mouth with her fingers. She noticed that she started to do it more often, and she couldn't figure out why. Was she hiding that fact that they kissed as much as they did; merely hiding the evidence? Or did she just want to touch his lips?

Definitely the latter.

"So, what do I do about Ginny?" she asked.

"You should probably spend some time with her," he offered. "Like, dedicate an entire day to just the two of you or something. A girls' day. People still do that, right?"

She kissed him again, quicker this time, but long enough to leave them both in a slight daze.

"Or, I guess, you know, all three of us could hang out."

When Hermione bit at her bottom lip and took a slight step away from him; he immediately knew that he had said something wrong.

"Or," he was quick to add; "if that's too weird, we can invite Luna, maybe Neville, along and make it a group thing. I mean, I just don't want Ginny to think that I'm trying to steal her best friend away from her."

Hermione took another step away from him and took a deep breath. She was clearly preparing herself to ask him an uncomfortable question and Harry couldn't help the tension he suddenly felt in his muscles.

"Harry, umm, you don't still have feelings for Ginny, do you?" she asked softly. "I know, umm, that _we're_ together now, but do I have to be worried if the two of you are ever alone together?"

Harry took his time trying to formulate the right response to this monumental question. Whatever he said, he just knew that it would be relationship defining.

"I like _you_ ," he began. "I want to be with you, Hermione Granger. Whatever I liked about Ginny was obviously a misplaced schoolboy crush but you, Granger, are the real thing. We're doing things right, you and me, and I promise that you have nothing to worry about. I am so yours; it's actually disgusting."

She regarded him for a moment, seeing the truth in his eyes. Such expressive eyes. "It _is_ disgusting, isn't it?"

And to mark it off, he pulled her back into his embrace and proceeded to kiss the air right out of her lungs.

* * *

Despite Harry's assurances, Hermione couldn't stop herself from feeling like something was _wrong_. It could have been because the dynamics of her friendships were now altered, but she was sure it was something else. It was a foreboding feeling, as if she could sense that something was coming. Something _big_.

Now that Jack was 'back on the market,' he was positively intolerable, fawning over the attention he was getting. Hermione mentioned to him that he was showcasing one of his worst qualities, but he didn't seem to care. She absently wondered if he was _trying_ to be self-destructive, acting out because of some other reason, but he didn't respond whenever she asked. She'd almost given up trying to understand him and, really, she thought _she_ was the closest to figuring him out.

Ginny was worse, really, because all she did was complain about all the _other_ fangirls throwing themselves at her ex-boyfriend. It was a mixture of amusing and heartbreaking at the same time, because Ginny looked positively gutted by it all. _He was moving on so fast_ , though she never said it out loud.

What didn't change, though, was the way that Ginny treated Harry. It wasn't always directly to his face, but she did pass remarks that Hermione _did not like_. Hermione tried to give her time to adjust. That was mainly because she didn't know what a breakup was like, so she tried to allow Ginny the time to settle, hoping that the anger would subside and she would stop channeling Jack - or rather, James - when it came to her view of Harry.

But it went on for a few days, until Hermione just _snapped_. It was one thing for Jack to hate Harry - for whatever twisted reasons that James had planted into his head - but Ginny had no excuse. None whatsoever. The boy'd been nothing but kind to her.

"Look, Ginny, Harry is very important to me, okay? So I'd really appreciate it if my best friend would quit being such a bitch about him."

Ginny sat back, her mind running away with itself. She was mildly surprised by Hermione's use of language, but she suspected that she'd been pushed to it through Ginny's own actions towards Harry. "Okay."

Hermione hadn't expected that. It was almost too easy, and her frown was immediate. "Okay?"

She nodded. "I guess a part of me was blaming Harry for the falling apart of my relationship with Jack."

Hermione shook her head. "Well, that's just stupid."

Ginny let out a light laugh. A part of her appreciated _this_ Hermione. She was more free, open and _happy_. Ginny couldn't help the surge of jealousy that she felt. She accepted that it was a natural feeling, given what she'd just gone through with Jack, but she couldn't stop herself from thinking that she wanted some of that happiness for herself.

Jack was the Boy-Who-Lived. Wasn't she supposed to be happy with _him_? And, if she couldn't be happy with him, who else was there?

"Harry really makes you happy, doesn't he?" Ginny asked.

Hermione couldn't stop her smile. Merely the mention of him made her feel almost giddy. It was borderline embarrassing, perhaps even a little pathetic, but she couldn't help it. In fact, she was almost certain that Harry was the same way. All she'd have to do was ask Luna, and the Ravenclaw would probably enjoy telling her all about it.

Hermione was wary of just how long their perfect little bubble could last. They'd endured Arthur Weasley's attack, but they were still intact. She was a little worried, because it was bound to burst sometime, and just the thought of it gave her anxiety.

"Speak of the Devil," Ginny said, her head drifting past Hermione's face to somewhere behind her. "Someone's trying to get your attention."

Hermione turned her head to spy Harry standing about a metre behind her, looking rather sheepish. Well, he actually looked quite cute, but she wasn't going to say it out loud with Ginny standing right there. "Hey," she said.

He smiled at her. "Ready to go?"

"Sure." Her conversation with Ginny was over anyway. "I just need to run up and grab my bag. Give me a minute." She barely gave him time to respond before she was shooting up the stairs to her dormitory.

Harry could only watch in amusement and fascination. It took him a moment to notice that Ginny was giving him a curious look. "Is everything okay?" he asked.

She nodded. "Just looking out for my friend."

There were so many things that he could have said to her, but he wasn't in the mood for it. He already knew all he needed to about his own relationship with Hermione. Ginny's relationship with Hermione was her own problem. So he settled for something else; something that he felt he _had_ to say.

"What is it that you want to know then, Ginny?" he asked, and stopped himself from asking why she was so interested _now_ , when the Jack Potter sized distraction wasn't in front of her anymore.

"Are you for real, Potter?"

He raised his eyebrows. Really, why was she asking him this _now_? He nodded anyway. "I barely even knew her last year, and now I can't imagine life without her. She's - she's very important to me."

"She better be, Bla - uh, Potter," Ginny said, stumbling over her words. "I'd hate to think that you broke the system for nothing."

He raised an eyebrow. "I didn't do this for Granger, you know?"

"Sure you didn't."

"I didn't," he tried to tell her.

"Then for whom? Because no boy would go to all this trouble if there wasn't a girl involved."

Harry took a moment, trying to figure out what it was about Ginny that he ever truly found attractive. Perhaps it was the fact that she'd been so mysterious and somewhat untouchable. But now that he was actually getting to know her, he couldn't see it anymore. She'd never shine as bright as Hermione Granger in his eyes.

"You're right about that, at least," he said; "but wrong about the girl."

"Who then?"

"I think you've met her. Her name's Lily Evans; and she's my mum."


	12. Ugly Truth

AN: I struggled getting this chapter out. There was a difficult decision that I had to make. Be kind. I promise I'll fix it.

* * *

 **Chapter Twelve: Ugly Truth**

Hermione wouldn't say that Ginny was ever fully on board when it came to her relationship with Harry, but she appreciated the fact that the redhead seemed to be trying, now more than before. Ginny was definitely getting more involved in Hermione's life, and so Harry's. She even went so far as to offer to help him practice his Keeping, which was a bit of a relief to Hermione, because that meant that Harry could stop asking her.

He didn't, though. Hermione suspected that he enjoyed getting under her skin about her avoidance of flying. She called it an avoidance, and he called it a fear. _He was wrong_. He kept threatening to kidnap her and take her out on his broom. And she threatened him with bodily harm right back, which always made him smile a little too much. He was such a little pervert sometimes.

"One of these days, I'm going to take you for a flight, and you're going to love it," Harry said, nudging her slightly, as they sat side by side at their table in the library. Luna and Neville were working in the Astronomy Tower, and Harry was using their _alone_ time to his full advantage.

"I doubt that," she said, refusing to look at him. He got way too much satisfaction out of distracting her. He was as diligent as she was but, when he was in a distracting mood; that was _it_. Hermione found it endearing. Sometimes, at least.

"Some day?" he asked.

"I'll consider it," she said, appeasing him. "It's not you, if you're thinking that."

"I don't think that," he replied seriously, his amusement falling away. "But I'm all for confronting fears and all that, Granger. I'd want you to feel safe enough to confront this one when you're with me."

She regarded him for a moment, trying and failing to keep a straight face. She couldn't, and her face broke out in a wide smile. "You truly are very special, Mr Potter."

He returned her smile. "I like to think so."

She leaned towards him and kissed him. She intended for it to be a quick one, but her subconscious mind had other ideas, and Harry definitely wasn't complaining. She'd never really loved the library as much as she'd learned to, now that she had memories of kissing Harry attached to it.

"You're going to get me into trouble," she eventually said, pulling away from him and taking a deep breath. "I was a good girl before I met you."

He raised an eyebrow in her direction. "Oh, Granger, you and I both know that you were never a 'good girl.'" He leaned back. "I've heard the stories, you know. What's this I hear about you brewing Polyjuice Potion in our second year?"

Hermione couldn't figure out how he could have ever found out about that, but she still blushed. "It was for a good cause," she countered.

"Somehow, I doubt that, but I'll let you believe it."

She reached for his forearm, and gave it a slight squeeze. Really, she just wanted to touch him; to make sure he was really there. Even though they didn't actively talk about her time with her parents; the truth of the Austria trip still hung in the air. If anything, she felt as if she'd taken a step forward, and then at least three steps back. Or more. Who knew?

This thing she was doing with Harry was dangerous. It was easier keeping him at an arm's length. It was better, making sure she did that with anyone new in her life. It wouldn't hurt as much when they left, because people always leave, right?

But this boy was worming his way into her heart, sliding through all her defences, and she was powerless to stop it. Did she even want to?

There was a fear sitting in the back of her mind though. There'd been _fangirls_ before, but now girls were starting to notice him; starting to see the gentle soul, the caring heart that nobody noticed before he stood up to be counted. It was terrifying for her, knowing that, if he were to go looking; he could easily find someone better than her. Or, at the very least, someone who wasn't so afraid of feeling all these things for him.

Harry checked his watch. "Uh, I better get going," he said. "Don't want to be late meeting Mum and Sirius."

"Did they say _anything_ about what they want to talk to you about?" she asked him, removing her hand from his forearm and immediately missing the contact.

She was going to spend the next few hours alone in the library, and there was a part of her that was looking forward to it. Getting down to her work and losing herself in her books was always something that she enjoyed.

Harry respected that. He even encouraged it sometimes.

He shrugged. "Just that I have to meet them at the Hogwarts Gates at five o'clock," he said. "They're taking me to dinner apparently."

"Do you know where?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Do you want me to bring something back for you, Granger? All you have to do is ask."

She punched his arm. "I'm just asking if you're going to be leaving Hogsmeade," she said. "Will you be gone a long time?"

"Granger?"

She couldn't help her blush. "It's just that, well, your bed's really comfortable."

He laughed. "That it is," he agreed. "And how exactly do you know that?"

She punched his arm again. "I've caught naps there, you know?"

"I know," he said, rubbing his arm. "And that hurts, by the way," he grumbled; "stop punching me."

She folded her arms across her chest.

"And I quite like it when you sleep in my bed."

Cue the blush.

Harry started to pack up his books and his writing utensils. He wasn't in a rush, which he suspected was to do with Hermione. She'd been a little preoccupied ever since they returned to school. He knew that a part of it was to do with her parent, but there was another part that was to do with Jack and Ginny, or just the fact that things were so different now.

Hermione didn't like change, at all.

"Will you take my bag up to my room then?" he asked. "Seeing as I'm going to find you in my bed when I get back."

"You should be so lucky."

Harry kept his eyes on her. He had the urge to tell her how he felt about her, but her eyes dropped down to her work and the moment past. "Granger?"

She looked at him. "Hmm?"

"I'm going to go now."

She leaned into him to kiss him quickly. "Be good, all right?"

"I'll see you later?"

A kiss and a stumble later, he was gone. Hermione watched as he disappeared from sight. For a moment, Hermione wanted to go after him, but she stayed put. What was wrong with her? It was only a couple of hours that he would be out of the Castle. What could possibly go wrong?

Hermione spent those next few hours working on Arithmancy, using the lack of distractions to good effect. Okay, she wouldn't exactly call Harry a _distraction_ , but he did cause her mind to drift more often than not. It wasn't his fault, not really, but that didn't stop her from blaming him in her own head.

When it was time, Hermione packed up her things, grabbed both their bags and made her way to the Great Hall for dinner. She was late enough that she missed everyone who was anyone to her. That was okay. She wasn't really feeling up to conversation anyway. Her friends were acting _weird_. It wasn't just to do with the breakup, or even to do with the new hostility; it was something else.

A part of her was convinced it was to do with Harry. He was, after all, part of the reason Jack and Ginny ended, wasn't he? As twisted as that was. The mere fact that her relationship with him was as great as it was merely highlighted the cracks in Jack and Ginny's relationship. So Hermione _was_ worried, though she couldn't quite pinpoint the true reason _why_.

Hermione ate quickly, and then she was on her way to Gryffindor Tower. There were people in the Common Room, but she bypassed them all. It wasn't anything strange to see her head up to the boys' dormitories, so nobody paid her any attention.

Save for two people, who were both burning with misplaced jealousy.

Hermione strode into the dormitory with the confidence of someone who knew it well, and headed straight towards Harry's bed. She set their things down, and made herself comfortable. She would be there a while.

As expected, when Harry got back to his dormitory, Hermione was still lying in his bed, curled up under his duvet. Her eyes were closed but he could tell that she wasn't asleep. This was a habit she'd developed lately and, as much as Harry loved it; Jack and Ron vehemently _didn't_.

Harry thought that, if she weren't their friend; they might have reported her to Professor McGonagall. His girlfriend was such a rule-breaker when she wanted to be. Though, she made it perfectly clear to them all that she was, in fact, _not_ breaking any rules.

"Granger?" he whispered, climbing in behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. He pulled her in close to him and buried his face in her hair, absently breathing her in.

"I would be really mad if I were sleeping," she said, giggling softly.

"No you wouldn't," he said, laughing lightly. "You missed me."

"Maybe, maybe not."

He sighed contently. "Don't you want to know what my mum and Sirius wanted to talk to me about?"

"I already know."

He placed a kiss on her neck. "Is that so?"

"It is."

"Tell me then."

"They're finally giving it a try then, aren't they? Being together? Your mum and Sirius?"

Harry sighed again. "I bet you feel pretty smug about it right now, don't you?"

"Oh, definitely," she said playfully, before her tone turned serious. "How do _you_ feel about it? Are you all right?"

"I'm great," he said. "It might be a little weird, right? But I'm relieved, and I'm happy for them." He nuzzled his nose against her cheek. "If they can experience even half of how happy I feel when I'm with you, then, you know, I'm all for it."

Hermione relaxed into him. "I should probably get out of your bed, shouldn't I?"

"It'd be best," he said tiredly. "But I don't really want you to."

She sighed heavily. "That's not what you're supposed to say."

"What am I supposed to say?"

"Tell me to get out of your bed."

"Not physically possible."

Hermione opened her eyes for a moment. "Do you have practice tonight?"

He let out a relieved breath. "I don't, for the first time this week," he said. "Angelina is hell-spent on winning this match, Granger. If she had it her way, I'm sure that she'd have us practice on Valentine's Day."

Hermione let out a groan. "Please tell me that you don't have some extravagant thing planned for us," she said. "Because, you know, I might just hit you."

"Oh, I just love it when you threaten to touch me," he sing-songed.

She couldn't help her laugh. "What am I ever going to do with you?"

"I could think of a few things," he said in a whisper, his hands sliding up the sides of her body, and Hermione couldn't help her shiver.

Eventually, she shifted out of his hold and sat up. "Someone is feeling a little frisky tonight," she observed. "Is there a specific reason?"

Harry also sat up, looking a little embarrassed. "Do you not like it?" he asked quietly, unable to meet her gaze.

"Harry?"

He sighed. "It's been brought to my attention that I might be, how you say, _lacking_."

Her eyes widened. "Who said that?"

He pressed his lips together.

"Was it Sirius?" she asked, and his silence was more than enough of an answer for her. "Because you know that he's just messing with you, Harry."

He blinked innocently. "So you don't think I'm, uh, _lacking_?"

"Of course not," she said quickly. "I think you're perfect, and I think our physical relationship is progressing at a reasonable rate." She smiled at him. "I like the kissing, and I like the cuddling. But, most importantly, I like _you_. Just the way you are, okay?"

He just about managed to return her smile. "I like you too, Hermione."

There he went again, drawing her in with her first name. It always sounded different when he said it, as if it were something special. His use of it usually came around the same time that they kissed, and this time was no different. Behind Harry's curtains and under his duvet, Harry rolled onto Hermione and kissed her for all she was worth. Her fingers played with his hair, holding him close and telling him that she liked him for him without having to say the words.

Sirius Black was an idiot.

* * *

"Are we going somewhere?"

"I don't know; are we?"

Hermione Granger awarded Harry with an unimpressed glare, and the boy just laughed. "I swear, Potter, if you _did_ plan something extravagant, I'm going back to the library."

"Your sense of occasion is pitiful," he said, rolling his eyes. "Don't you want romance?"

"Of course I _want_ romance, Harry," she said, rolling _her_ eyes; "but why should there be one specific day for it?"

"Oh, I see," he said, putting an arm around her shoulders. "My girlfriend's a cynic."

"Am not."

He kissed her cheek. "It's okay that you are," he assured her, his voice taking on a serious tone.

Hermione turned her head to look at him as they walked side-by-side in the corridor, headed to whatever destination the boy had cooked up. "It's not about my parents," she said quietly. "At least, I don't think it is."

He waited in silence for her to continue, realising that she was turning his light-hearted teasing into something serious.

"I mean, I guess they love _each other_ ," she said; "though they've never been affectionate in front of me. In fact, they're quite robotic, and they never touch. I don't think that they even look at each other when they talk. It's honestly the weirdest thing."

Harry didn't think it was that weird. He was quite sure that he viewed the same thing with James and his wife. He was sure that, if Hermione were to look at that relationship close enough; she would see the same thing. But that wasn't Harry's concern. His girlfriend was.

"Hey," he said, coming to stop and tugging on her hand. "Let's not think about this today, okay?" he said, grinning at her. "It's Valentine's Day, and I just, I want you to think about only me."

Hermione laughed out loud. "You're one special kid, you know that," she whispered, pulling him nice and close and kissing his cheek. "And all I really do is think about you, Mr Potter. It's a problem."

"Is it really?"

She kissed him on the mouth. It _was_ a problem, but she wasn't going to tell him that. "Okay, now tell me where we're going."

"If I don't, will you keep kissing me?"

"Fat chance," she huffed. "Tell me."

"Patience, Granger." He started to walk again, his hand keeping hold of hers as he led the way through the corridors. He absently rubbed the pad of his thumb over the back of her hand. It truly was the little things with this one.

The entire day had been perfect in ways that she wouldn't be able to put into words. She'd witnessed other couples make extravagant declarations during the day, but it was the understated way that Harry's taken hold of her hand and kissed her knuckles that morning that did her in. His eyes, burning with something she didn't recognise, as he looked at her.

People had looked, expecting something. But Harry didn't make a scene, though he looked mischievous. Hermione knew she was in for it.

"Harry?" she asked after a while.

"Hmm?"

"I wanted to say thank you," she said; "for today."

He glanced at her, frowning slightly. "What are you talking about? I didn't do anything today."

"That's why I'm saying thank you," she said. "I suspect it was difficult for you not to go all Mosstrooper on me."

He let out a light laugh. "It wasn't all that difficult, Granger," he told her. "My girlfriend doesn't like the attention, and I definitely wasn't going to be the one to make her uncomfortable on this day of all days." He winked at her. "But all bets are off tomorrow, you hear?"

Her eyes were shining. "I do."

"As long as you know."

"I definitely do."

Harry didn't say anything more as they continued on their way to their destination.

When they finally reached it, she looked at him with wide eyes. "The Astronomy Tower?" Hermione asked. "How did you manage that? There must be like a hundred couples up there."

He grinned mischievously at her. "Is that so?"

She eyed him. "Potter, what did you do?"

"I'll have you know that I've been planning this for a while, Granger," he admitted. "I've accounted for everything. You have nothing to worry about."

Hermione wasn't worried. She was safe with him, she knew, though she didn't say it out loud. That would give voice to a feeling she was still trying to wrap her head around. This was a boy who you trusted. This was a boy who you had no choice but to allow yourself to love, and she was terrified of it. Deathly.

Which was probably the reason that she wasn't yet giving in to it. She wouldn't. It would hurt too much when he finally wised up and moved on from her.

Harry took out his wand, mumbled a quick spell and then opened the door. The moment Hermione stepped through, music started to play. _Muggle_ music.

She glanced at him, but he wasn't looking at her. She could tell that he was smiling, even looking rather chuffed with himself, and she squeezed his hand in silent response. She could already feel herself falling deeper and deeper into -

 _Something_.

When they reached the top of the Tower, Hermione's breath caught in her throat and tears sprung to her eyes. "Harry," she whispered. "What is this?"

He released her hand and strode forward. "It's not too much, is it?" he asked innocently.

She shook her head, dumbfounded. It most definitely was not too much. "It's perfect," she whispered.

He grinned at her, looking relieved. "Are you sure?"

Hermione didn't respond, as she took in the sight before her. The entire top deck was completely _decked_ out, and Hermione's breath was staying stuck in her throat. There were small orbs of light floating in the air, casting a dim glow over the space. Near the edge, overlooking the lake and basking in the moonlight, was a picnic blanket, endless cushions and more rose petals than she could even fathom.

"Because, if you're not," Harry continued; "I should tell you that there's food. And I'm well aware that we've already had supper, but I _did_ tell you not to eat too much because I had something planned. But, I mean, it's more like snacks, so not _really_ food, but then - "

"Harry," she cut him off.

He looked at her rather sheepishly. "Yes, dear?"

"It's perfect."

He held out his hand, a small smile dancing across his face. "Come. Sit with me."

Hermione didn't even hesitate, before she was running towards him, and flinging her arms around his neck. Harry lifted her up off the ground and spun them once, twice, before he stumbled and they collapsed on the cushions in a heap of laughter. Before he could even recover, Hermione rolled onto him and kissed him senseless, her hands turning him to complete putty beneath her.

"Granger," he eventually said, shivering slightly - an immeasurable amount of time later. "Don't you want strawberries?"

She just took a breath.

"I promise they're sweeter than I am."

"I doubt that."

Harry let out a laugh, and gently pushed on her shoulders. He blinked at the sight of her, hair dishevelled, lips red and swollen, and blouse unbuttoned. Hah. When did that happen? He blushed a deep red.

Hermione took her time sitting up and looked at him. "Oh, don't get all self-conscious now, Potter," she said, placing a hand on his chest. His _bare_ chest. Merlin, when did _that_ happen? "Okay then, feed me, if you must."

Harry took a deep breath, before he did just that. They spent an obscene amount of time out there, feeding each other under the stars and enjoying each other's company. Hermione kissed him every chance she could, tasting all the lovely food on his lips and in his mouth. This had to be the best day she'd had in such a long time.

"I have something for you," Hermione said, getting his attention.

His eyes widened. "Granger, you know you didn't have to."

"I know." She reached into her discarded robes and retrieved an envelope, which she handed to Harry without saying a word. She watched him carefully, as he opened the card she'd made. It was a little childish, even cliche, but she did add a little magic to it.

The card's front was a moving picture of the both of them that Colin Creevey took after one of Harry's Quidditch practices. Hermione loved the picture because, despite how exhausted he appeared in the picture; the second that he spotted her, her favourite grin took over his face. Every time she doubted herself in this relationship, she could look at that picture, and she'd _know_.

This boy was hers.

Harry's eyes softened as he looked at the picture. And then his face broke out in that same smile.

Hermione's heart stuttered. He was so special. Truly, he was.

Harry opened the card and his grin merely widened. His eyes were shining when he looked at her. "Of course, Granger," he said, launching himself at her. "Of course I'll be your Valentine."

She let out a squeak when he landed on her.

"I'm yours," he whispered, before he kissed her.

They didn't do much talking after that.

When they did eventually pull apart to catch their breaths, Harry felt the most content he had in a very long time. They settled in side by side, his arms coming around her and holding her close against him.

"Harry?" Hermione whispered after a long silence filled with their slowly-steadying breathing.

"Hmm?" He didn't bother to open his eyes. He was just too comfortable, lying there with his favourite person in his arms.

"Can I ask you a serious question?"

He smiled automatically. "I already told you that I wear briefs, Granger."

She giggled lightly, her breath warm against his bare chest. "I've been wondering about this for a while."

"What is it?"

She steeled herself. "Uh, well, I've always wondered, you know, why _did_ you allow Jack to keep his position on the Quidditch team?"

Harry opened his eyes. "What do you want to know?"

" _Why_?"

He let out a long breath. "I get angry sometimes," he began. "Like, irrationally so, and I want to lash out. I want to hurt someone. It's a trait I don't like about myself, but I sometimes just can't get over how unfair the world is. This world that I've been born into." He shifted slightly, tightening his arms around her. "I wanted to hurt him," he admitted, referring to Jack. "I mean, I wanted on the team for myself, sure, but I wanted him to hurt. I think I would have enjoyed it, just for him to feel what it's like to be me; just for a little while. But then I stopped to think about it. That side of me, that hatred part, all that anger; that's _James_ in me.

"That's his trying to manifest himself in me, and I won't allow it. I won't be like him, Granger. I can't. I don't - it's the last thing I want. So, yeah, I _can_ do things back to Jack, and I can hurt him like he's hurt me, but I won't. I don't want to turn into James. I won't let it happen to me the way it's clearly happened to Jack." He fell silent for a moment. "Really, it's actually my biggest fear."

Hermione placed a gentle kiss against his skin. "You're nothing like James."

"I realised that, for him to be who he is, he must have so much anger, and so much regret _inside of him_ ," Harry continued. "Because of the way he is; he can't possibly love himself, and that's just sad."

"You don't have that problem," she stated.

"No, I don't," he said seriously. "If I can get one thing from James; it's how _not_ to act. I sometimes think that, you know? 'What would James do?' and then I do the complete opposite. It seems to be working out well for me."

"Do you ever think there will be a day when it doesn't work?"

"Probably," he confessed. "I just hope it isn't any time soon."

Hermione kissed his skin again, peppering kisses across his chest and then up towards his neck. Her fingers were dancing along his back, making it difficult for him to breathe steadily. Not that he was complaining; not at all. Today had to be one of the best days of his life, and it was all because of Hermione Granger.

When her lips finally met his, she was forced to acknowledge that her boy really could do romance.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I tell you a secret?"

He let out a content sigh when she pressed a kiss to his pulse point. "You know that you can tell me anything."

Hermione propped herself up on her elbow so she could look at him. She wanted to see his face. His eyes. "Harry?"

He opened his eyes.

"You make me very happy," she whispered, as if it really were a secret. "I'm, uh, I'm terrified of it though. You scare me a little."

On any other day, with any other person; Harry might have made a joke, but he didn't. Not today, and not this person. This was clearly something very serious to her.

"Okay, you scare me _a lot_."

"I'm sorry," he said softly, smiling slightly.

She smiled at him. "Thank you for today."

"No, thank _you_ for today," he returned, wagging his eyebrows.

Hermione blushed. "All I did was take off your shirt," she clarified.

"Um, I believe you _clawed_ at my shirt," he said defiantly, even though his memory of it _was_ rather hazy. "Somebody wanted access to some skin."

She only turned redder, and he loved her for it. "Is that a complaint I hear, Mr Potter?"

"No," he said quickly, tugging on a strand of her hair. "Never."

"Good."

He grinned at her. "Come here."

She went. Gladly.

* * *

As expected, Gryffindor defeated Hufflepuff.

In fact, they annihilated them; wiped them off the map; ended their fledgling careers. It was an embarrassment of note and, really, it was one of the easiest games Harry would ever play in. They'd scored _once_ against him, and that was only because he'd felt sorry for them. _And_ he'd been hit square in his left fourth rib by a bludger that came from Merlin only knows where.

To say that the Gryffindors were going to celebrate as if they'd won the World Cup would be a gross understatement. It was a record-breaking win that they were never going to pass up. Even Harry was invited into the festivities, and declining would have been too much of a hassle. He stayed for almost half an hour before he excused himself, saying that he wanted to shower and change. Nobody could begrudge him the opportunity to get out of his sweaty uniform.

A uniform that various girls eyed rather appreciatively.

Harry first searched for Hermione, who was sitting with Fay and Eloise, two of the more quiet fifth-year Gryffindor girls. Harry wasn't surprised to find her with them, mainly because she didn't get on all that well with her other two roommates, Lavender and Parvati. It _was_ one of the reasons that her girl best friend was in a lower grade.

"Are you heading up?" Hermione asked, as soon as she spotted him moving towards her.

"Just a shower and a change," he said in response. "I'll see how I feel after."

"I'll maybe come up later," she offered, as he bent down to kiss her cheek. It was a lingering one, silently thanking her for the day; for her support and for coming to wish him luck before he took to the field. She'd actually come with Ginny, which got awkward really quickly, particularly when Jack joined the mix. It'd been _weird_.

Their eyes met before he stood up, and she gave him a questioning look, practically daring him to do something more.

He was smiling before he kissed her quickly on the lips, which earned him a catcall from Seamus Finnegan. Harry paid him no mind, his eyes solely on Hermione Granger, which was a truth not lost on any of the girls within distance. It even made some of them swoon.

Rumours had floated around about what Harry did for Hermione on Valentine's Day, and Hermione was now the subject of a considerable amount of jealousy that she didn't seem to notice. It was slowly - or rapidly - occurring to several of the girls that Harry Potter was quite the catch, and Hermione Granger was one lucky girl.

Really, with Harry now so openly in the limelight, the contrast between Jack and Harry was blatant for those looking, to see. Jack hadn't ever treated Ginny the way that Harry treated Hermione.

Harry kissed her once more, and then he made his escape from the Common Room and headed up to his dormitory. He took his time in the bathroom, using the stream of water from the shower to soothe the tension in his muscles. Despite the ease of the win; it'd been a hard game for him. His mother hadn't come, but Sirius had. His hair - or lack thereof - didn't go unnoticed by those who hadn't seen him in a while.

Or lived under a rock, like Harry sometimes _wanted_ to. Lord Black's haircut had made the news for a full week when he chopped it all off.

When Harry finished with his shower, he got dressed into his Muggle clothing, and then made his way back to his dormitory. He half-expected to find Hermione in his bed, but what he walked into was really surprising. Even a little terrifying.

Ginny Weasley was sitting on the edge of his bed, clearly waiting for him. For whatever reason.

"Uh," Harry stuttered, holding his toiletries up to his chest. What was she doing here? What did she want? "Is everything okay?" he asked. "Where's Granger?"

"Downstairs."

He blinked. "Is there something you need?"

For a moment, Ginny said nothing. Then she stood up and walked towards him. "I wanted to ask you something," she said.

He fought the urge to back away. He didn't even want to think about what his girlfriend would think if she were to walk in right now. "What?"

"It's a little embarrassing," she said, dropping her gaze for a moment.

"Um, okay."

"It's just, well, I've been thinking, and I got to wondering..." she paused, and Harry raised an eyebrow expectantly. "Why her?"

He frowned. "What?"

"Why Hermione?"

That made him take a step back. "Excuse me?"

"It's just that I'm just curious, you see. You do all this amazing stuff for her, and I just don't get it. I mean, she told me all about Valentine's Day, you know, and all these other things that you do... so I just don't get it. I don't."

Harry was starting to feel supremely uncomfortable. "What exactly are you trying to ask me, Ginny?"

"There are countless other girls in this school, Harry, so why would you pick Hermione?" she blatantly asked.

Harry'd understood her the first time she asked the question: 'why her' but he didn't want to believe it. Merlin, how were they ever going to move past _this_ , even if Harry could convince himself that he wanted to?

"I'm not going to dignify that question with a response," he said curtly.

"I mean, it isn't as if I didn't see you staring at me," she continued, as if he hadn't even spoken. "So, I just don't understand, and I need you to tell me."

"I think you should leave."

Ginny just stared at him for a moment, before she stepped towards him and pressed her lips to his. It was a shock to Harry and, for a moment, he did nothing. It was a moment too long because, by the time his brain started to function again; Ginny Weasley was _decided_.

Harry pulled back suddenly. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked, hurriedly wiping at his mouth.

She narrowed her eyes. "I just thought - "

"You thought wrong," he said, cutting her off and stepping back. "I mean, what are you doing? You're Hermione's best friend."

"And you're her boyfriend," she countered.

"So then why did you kiss me?" he demanded. What the hell was going on here?

"Why do you think?"

What did he think? Truthfully, in this moment, he wasn't sure _what_ to think.

"I think you should leave," he said again, taking another step back. He was halfway to panicking right now, and he couldn't let Ginny see. Merlin, what on earth was he going to tell Hermione? Was _he_ supposed to?

Ginny just tilted her head to the side, watching him curiously.

"Leave, Weasley," he said through gritted teeth, his voice more stern. "Get out. Now."

She gave him one last look before she turned on her heel and left the room, leaving Harry in his own panic. Ginny just kissed him. His girlfriend's best friend just kissed him, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do now?

Did he tell Hermione? Would she even believe him? She was already worried as it was - apparently rightfully so, with friends like those - so what would this do to her now? What did it even mean? What was the redhead thinking?

If he were truly being critical, he thought that Ginny was wearing something like rose-coloured glasses when it came to him, and she was just seeing everything that Jack wasn't. It was no secret that the two of them had problems when they were together and now, almost two months after their breakup; she was desperate for _something_.

He didn't think that she actually _cared_ about him. She just wanted to be treated better, but this was not the way to go about it. He was and would always belong to Hermione Granger. _Everyone_ knew that. Particularly Ginny.

So Harry eventually reasoned that avoiding Ginny was the thing to do. At least for the time being. He'd already come up with a few ways to avoid having to spend time with her when Hermione first mentioned her worries, and he naively hoped that maybe they could move past all of this without Hermione ever having to find out.

He should have known better.

Ginny would never leave it at that. _And_ , it just never occurred to him that she would enlist the help of Hermione's two other best friends in her schemes.

* * *

Hermione guessed that there was something bothering her boyfriend almost immediately. He could barely look her in the eyes, and he always felt quite tense whenever they were together. She'd also caught him a few times opening his mouth to say something, and then immediately snapping it shut, as if he suddenly thought better of whatever he was going to say.

She could only guess at what was on his mind, because he refused to talk about it whenever she questioned him about it. It was worrying, and she started to think that she'd done something wrong. But what, she didn't know. What had gone so wrong?

It wasn't lost on her that girls looked at her boyfriend, but he hadn't looked back _ever_. He'd been so amused by it in the beginning, and now his eyes were always on her. Until now, that is. Now he kept his eyes down, as if she could somehow see in his eyes the truth that he was so desperately trying to hide.

Hermione was scarily tempted to demand the truth of him. This wasn't who they were, and she shuddered to think about the reason he was shutting her out. Something had happened.

But he'd made it clear to her that she could talk to him about anything, and she just had to know.

"Harry?"

He looked up from his Potions' essay. "Hmm?"

"Is there something you want to tell me?" she asked.

He sighed heavily, seemingly given in to his avoidance. "Yes."

"Are you going to?"

"I still haven't decided."

She dropped her gaze. "Is it bad?"

"In a way, yes."

"Is it going to change things?"

"Definitely."

She pressed her lips together, pondering his words. Then: "Then maybe don't tell me."

His eyes snapped towards her. "What?"

"Don't tell me."

He blinked. "Are you sure?"

She shook her head. "Definitely not."

"I'm sorry," he said with a sigh. He truly was; she could see it in his features, in his body, and in his eyes now that he was looking at her.

She shook her head again. "What's going on, Harry?"

He took a deep breath. "Something happened, Granger," he said tiredly. "Something big, and I want to tell you, but I don't know if you'll believe me."

She blinked. What was she supposed to say to that?

"It'll change things, and I don't - " he stopped. "I just - "

Hermione looked at him, searching his eyes for whatever truth he was trying _not_ to tell her. It looked big. It looked _monumental,_ and it was terrifying. Which was part of the reason why she said her next words.

"Don't tell me," she told him seriously. "I don't want to know."

He let out a shaky breath. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I'm so sorry, Granger."

She couldn't help the sudden rush of fear that she felt. As much as she wanted to avoid whatever was bothering him; she was certain that it would come back to bite her. And it was going to hurt. It was inevitable. Was this it then? Were they already reaching the end?

It took Harry some time to come back to her. She noticed the moment that he put whatever was initially on his mind to the side and returned his focus to her, and his work, and his friends.

Despite it, the idea that there was something he was hiding sat on the back of her brain and, like him, she wanted to ignore it. She _needed_ to ignore it. There'd been a change in his behaviour, and she was present enough to notice that it had something to do with Ginny, whatever it was.

Because the redhead was also acting strange. Well, stranger than usual. Hermione wanted to think that they'd fought about something, because they didn't _actually_ get along. Only, this felt like _more_.

Whatever it was that happened, Harry's return to her lasted only a few days.

Because then he was gone again. Somewhere else, and it was as if the caring boy that she was falling for just disappeared, and his body remained. It was odd, and getting him to focus was difficult.

The problem was that it was a hectic week of school, which made everyone cranky, and it wasn't entirely inconceivable for Harry to be distant. Whenever Hermione asked Luna about it; she told her that Harry did sometimes go into hiding. He reverted back to the way he was before they all became friends, and it was a little heartbreaking to think of the little eleven-year-old Harry hiding himself away as he navigated his first year of Hogwarts.

Hermione was too busy and too stressed to worry about it until the moment that she received the shock of her life - that wasn't _actually_ that big of a shock.

If anything, she was dangerously resigned about it all. Everyone else had failed her before. Why should Harry Potter be any different? Why should anyone?

On that day, she'd gone looking for Harry after class let out. She wanted to see him. She wanted to talk to him; to talk to _her_ Harry. Only, he wasn't to be found. Not in the library, not in his room, not in the Common Room and not in the Astronomy Tower.

Wherever he was, he didn't _want_ to be found.

Eventually ending her search, Hermione retreated to the Common Room, letting out a defeated sigh. She was tired, and irritated, and she just wanted to talk to her boyfriend. Or her best friend.

But Harry _was_ her best friend, wasn't he? He'd unwittingly taken the spot as his own. She'd never told him that, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she now wouldn't be able to. There was something happening; something that Harry was hiding from her.

At her own insistence, no less.

She got the feeling that she was missing something important; something glaring. It was right there for her to see, but she just couldn't grasp it, and it was eating away at her from the inside out.

She let out another tired sigh, her eyes drifting over the occupants of the Common Room. No Harry. No Ginny. Just her two rats.

"What are you two looking at over there?" Hermione asked Jack and Ron, unable to stand the hushed whispers belonging to her two male friends. She was standing over them, contemplating what she was going to do next. She had assignments due that she could probably get started on.

"Nothing," they said in unison, from their position huddled together on a couch.

She raised an eyebrow. "Jack. Ron."

"Where's Harry?" Jack asked.

Hermione frowned. Why was he asking about Harry? "I don't know, Jack," she said in mild annoyance. It _was_ a good question. "I'm not his keeper."

"Aren't you at all curious?" Jack asked.

Hermione swallowed. "Would you just come out say whatever it is you want to say?" she asked. "I'm really not in the mood for whatever games you're playing at right now."

"No games," he said, faking innocence. He held out the Marauders' Map for her to take. "Just look."

Hermione felt uneasy, as she stepped forward to take the Map from him. She was frowning as she looked at the pages. Clearly, there was something that Jack wanted her to see. But what?

Hermione froze when she spotted the very thing that Jack wanted her to see.

 _Harry Potter. Ginevra Weasley._

Together.

Unmoving.

 _In_ a broom closet.


	13. I Can't Make You Love Me

**Chapter Thirteen: I Can't Make You Love Me**

Hermione didn't say a word. In complete and utter silence, she handed the Map back to Jack, turned slowly and left the Common Room. She made her way up to her dormitory, sat down on her bed and _thought_. It couldn't _be_. That much, she was sure of. Harry would never.

But Ginny.

Hermione didn't cry, though she did come rather close a few times as she sat and thought about the possible reasons her boyfriend and her best friend could be together, in a broom closet no less. It just didn't make sense.

But then, Harry _had_ been acting strange lately. It was like he was distracted, constantly somewhere else, even when he was right there with her. It wasn't the same as it was after the win against Hufflepuff. He'd been off for a few days then, before he came back to her.

This time was different.

And now he was in broom closets with her best friend. Why? What reason could they possibly have? It wasn't as if her birthday was coming up. There was no need for them to meet behind her back. And they'd never been so secretive before. Sure, Ginny's disdain for Harry seemed to have disappeared, but was this why?

What made her even more uneasy was the fact that Jack and Ron seemed almost giddy about the fact that she'd _caught_ Harry and Ginny. She didn't have much time to dwell on it though, because Lavender and Parvati suddenly entered the room, giggling about something.

"Oh, Hermione," Parvati said, getting her attention. "I know you were looking for Ginny earlier; she just came into the Common Room."

Hermione's breath hitched.

What was she supposed to do now? Did she approach her? _Ask_ her? What if she had it all wrong? But she didn't, did she? If she were to take into account all their behaviour; it was clear as day, and it broke her heart.

Making the decision, Hermione stood up, quickly thanked Parvati, and walked calmly out of the room. She found Ginny in her dormitory room and she was, thankfully, alone. Hermione fought down the feeling of betrayal at the somewhat dishevelled look of her _once_ best friend. She shuddered to think about what it meant.

Ginny even had the guile to smile at her.

"Ginny," Hermione said, her eyes cold and calculating as she stepped into the room. "Where have you been?"

For a moment, the redhead said nothing. Then: "Just out and about. Why? What's up?"

Hermione blinked, forcing her emotions down. "I was just wondering," she said. "I went looking for you earlier, and, well, I couldn't find you."

Ginny shifted awkwardly. "Why were you looking for me?"

"Well, Harry wasn't around," she said in a measured tone, and Ginny flinched slightly. "I thought maybe you wanted to hang out, but clearly you were _busy_."

"Hermione," Ginny said, her voice coming out in a bit of a whisper.

"I didn't know that at the time though," she continued as if Ginny hadn't even spoken. Hermione barely heard her anyway. "So I asked Jack to borrow his Map," she said, even though it was a lie. "You know his Map, right? The one that shows you where every person is in this bloody Castle."

Ginny's colour faded in a heartbeat. _What had Jack done?_

"Funny thing though," Hermione said, her voice rising in pitch, though the volume remained even. "It turns out that my best friend was actually with my boyfriend. Isn't that just hilarious?"

No words would come.

"I don't know what hurts worse," she said; "you and Harry sneaking around behind my back, or your lying about it to my face."

"Hermione," Ginny tried again.

"No!" she snapped, allowing herself to _feel_ for the first time. She didn't like what she felt. "The next time you want to steal my boyfriend, remember that your _ex-boyfriend_ , who also happens to be his _brother_ , has a Marauders' Map. I saw you two together, Ginny. I saw you!"

"Hermione."

Hermione scowled, again having to force away her rising hurt and choosing rather to channel her anger. "Don't talk to me. I don't want to hear it!" She fought a sob. "Nothing you could say can possibly make this better! Don't so much as look at me. Honestly, I won't even care if I never see either of you again." With that said, she stormed away, the tears prickling at her eyes.

But no, she wasn't going to cry. Not yet, at least. Not until she looked Harry in the eye and knew for sure.

She found him in the Common Room, his eyes unfocused as he stared down at the text of a Transfiguration book in his lap. She felt odd seeing him, and her anger seemed to dissipate quite dramatically. There was no way. This boy, who she'd willingly given her heart to; he couldn't have hurt her the way she thought. Surely not.

"Harry," she said, approaching him.

He looked up, his eyes blinking as if he were coming out of a fog at the sound of her voice. When his eyes focused on her, he smiled and, for a moment, she felt a wave of relief.

But then his smile fell, his eyes widening slightly, and Hermione just _knew_. Her breath caught in her throat, and every terrible thing she'd ever thought about herself flew to the forefront of her mind, rendering her speechless.

She'd been right all along.

It hurt. Oh, it hurt.

"Granger," he croaked, setting his book aside and standing up. Then: "we need to talk."

Hermione blinked, trying to follow. And failing. "About?"

As if he were some kind of drone, he stepped forward while he drawled: "I want to break up."

Something snapped inside of her, and her rage felt like a wraith taking over her body. "And did you decide this before or after you cheated on me with my best friend?" she hissed harshly, making him flinch.

He frowned, his eyes darting about. People were now staring at them. "What?" he asked, clearly confused.

"Don't play dumb with me," she said, her voice cold and emotionless.

He blinked rapidly, his brain struggling to figure out just what was happening. "Is that what she told you?" he asked.

"I saw you, Harry; I saw you."

"Saw me what?"

"With _her_ , Harry."

His left eye twitched. "What? When? What are you talking about?"

Hermione stomped her foot. Why was he acting like she hadn't just caught him doing something wrong? Why was he acting like he didn't even _know_ that he'd done something wrong?

What was _wrong_ with _him_?

"Hermione?" It was Jack, from somewhere behind her.

Hermione didn't dare look at him. She wasn't yet ready for whatever her brain was trying to tell her about her supposed friends. She kept her eyes solely on Harry, who looked a mixture of confused and distraught. How dare he pretend that she wasn't right about this? How dare he?

"I know I should have told you about the kiss," he started to say, and Hermione stepped back, suddenly winded.

There it was. Oh my God. There it was!

"But it was just a moment, Granger," he continued. "Just a _moment_ , and I didn't think that it was worth telling you. I wanted to, but I - " he stopped suddenly, and his head jerked from side to side.

Her features hardened right then and there, and she turned icy cold. The Hermione he loved disappeared from right in front of his eyes. "I always wondered what would make someone like James cheat on his girlfriend with her best friend," she said coldly. "I suppose, now I can just ask you, can't I? Like father like son."

Of all the things she could have said to him, that had to be the worst thing, and she knew it. She watched the words sink in, and Harry's face turned into a grimace so painful that she had to look away. She knew of his fears. She knew how much he wanted to be nothing like James, and now... No! She was not going to feel sorry for him. She wasn't even going to feel sorry for herself. None of this was surprising.

She'd been a means to an end. He'd used her to get to Ginny. Talk about commitment. He'd wasted _months_ to get to Ginny through her. Hermione should have known better.

Hermione's eyes burned from the tears she was suppressing. "Who knew that it was actually Jack who was the better brother?"

Harry just stared at her, unmoving. He tried to open his mouth to speak, but the words that he _wanted_ to say didn't want to come out. What was happening? Why was any of this happening?

"Do you really have nothing to say?" she asked, her tone suddenly incredulous. "You cheat on me with my best friend, and you have nothing to say?"

The Common Room was completely silent, and she just knew that this conversation was going to be all over the school's rumour mill by dinner. Suddenly, she didn't care. If Harry Potter had the nerve to be a lying, cheating bastard; then the entire school had to know.

"God, you're pathetic," she said, before she raced out of the Common Room, her tears starting to fall. She was proud of the fact that she hadn't cried in front of him but, God, it _hurt_. It wasn't even limited to an emotional pain; she could feel it spreading through her limbs, making her entire body feel heavy. As a result, she didn't make it very far before she collapsed onto a window sill and buried her face in her hands, her body shaking from the intensity of her tears.

It was about a minute before she heard someone speak hesitantly. "Hermione?"

Her head snapped up, and she groaned, wiping at her eyes. "What do you want, Jack?" she asked curtly, her anger clouding all her other feelings, and her rational thinking. "Coming to tell me 'I told you so,' huh? Well, you can save it!"

"That's not why I'm here," he said softly, taking a cautious step towards her. "I just want to see if you were okay."

She stared at him incredulously. "If I was _okay_!"

He stopped his approach, suddenly wary. He hadn't expected _this_.

"Do I _look_ like I'm okay?" she asked harshly. "Seriously." She waved her hands about. "Does any of this look like I'm okay to you? Didn't you see what just happened? My boyfriend, and my best friend - " she stopped suddenly, and let out another round of tears.

Jack slowly moved to sit down beside her, and even ventured to put an arm around her shoulders, and was surprised when she let him.

"I'm such an idiot," she said, crying into his chest. "I mean, who was I to think that he could ever be interested in someone like me? I should have known! I should have see it for what it was! I mean, how long has this even been going on?" She suddenly sat back and looked at Jack. "Do you think they were together when you and Ginny were dating?"

Jack blinked once. "Uh, no."

Hermione returned to her position against him, her tears less violent now. "I - I was starting to think that maybe I - " she stopped. She couldn't say it now. It was too painful even to think about it. How could she even tell Jack that she was starting to think that she was in love with Harry Potter?

Jack tried to soothe her. If anything, he was surprised by how distraught she was. It was just a breakup, wasn't it? He didn't remember either he or Ginny looking or sounding so heartbroken. There hadn't even been tears.

But there was no point in dwelling on it, surely. Hermione was here with him, in _his_ arms. This was what he wanted, wasn't it?

Hermione's sobs eventually quieted down, and she wriggled out of his embrace to wipe at her eyes. "This is so embarrassing," she said. "I'm humiliated."

"It'll be okay," he automatically said. "It'll be talk for a few days, but then it'll blow over and, you'll see, everything will go back to the way it was." _The way it should be_.

Hermione didn't look convinced and, frankly, she didn't want things to go back to the way things were. She didn't like her life before she knew Harry, Neville and Luna. _Oh_. What was supposed to happen now? What did she _want_ to happen now? She had to live with them and she felt sick at the thought of it.

"Hey," Jack said, touching her chin with his free hand and turning her head to look at him. "It's going to be okay," he said, trying to reassure her. He wasn't to know that it wasn't working.

"Thank you," she still said, meeting his gaze.

"For what?"

"For not saying 'I told you so.'"

He let out a light breath. "I might still," he admitted; "when you're not crying all over me, maybe."

Hermione felt herself blush from embarrassment, a small smile gracing her lips, before it fell away again. She looked at Jack again, ready to ask him something important. It was sitting at the back of her mind, just now coming to the forefront. _Had he known?_

But, before she could get a word out, she was silenced by his lips suddenly pressing against hers. She was surprised at first, even taken aback, but then she allowed herself to accept the kiss for just a moment.

 _A moment was all it took_.

Her mind flashed to Harry's face; his pained, handsome face.

In the next moment, Hermione was pushing Jack away and standing up, her heart beating wildly in her chest as she tried to get as far away from him as she possibly could. She blinked rapidly, her mind reeling. Oh God, oh God!

"What the hell was that?" she asked, practically yelling at him.

Jack just looked at her with wide, surprised eyes.

"Jack Sirius Potter!" she barked, her face flushed and her chest heaving. "Why the hell did you just kiss me?"

He sat perfectly still, clearly stumped. His own brain was short-circuiting. Stupid, stupid. "Uh, for comfort?" he eventually tried.

Hermione glared at him. What was happening? Why was _any_ of this happening? Everything had been so perfect. She'd been _happy_ , and now everything was just falling apart. Who was she supposed to turn to now? Her boyfriend was a lying cheat, her female best friend was a back-stabbing bitch and now her male best friend was, what - what was Jack doing? What on earth was he thinking?

"I'd like you to leave me alone," she said, much more calmly than she'd expected. Not with the way her blood was rushing in her ears; not with the way she could feel her heart beating in her toes.

"Hermione," he tried to argue, standing up and moving towards her.

"No," she said automatically, raising a hand to stop him. "Just leave me alone, Jack. Seriously. I just found out that _at least_ two of the most important people in my life betrayed me, and I _do not_ need your version of comfort right now."

He couldn't help his flinch. "If you - "

"Jack!" she growled, cutting him off. "Leave! _Jesus_. Just leave me alone! Please!"

It was the last thing he wanted to do. She just looked so broken; so defeated, and all he wanted to do was help. Perhaps he'd gone about it the wrong way, but he didn't want her to be hurting. Not like this. That was the last thing he wanted. "Are you - "

"I'm sure!" she snapped.

He swallowed thickly, but did eventually start to back away, his eyes never leaving her stricken face.

Hermione watched him go until he was completely out of sight. As soon as she was sure she was completely alone, she stumbled backwards until she hit the wall behind her, and allowed her legs to buckle underneath her.

She buried her face in her hands, and _cried_ , feeling it all just come tumbling out.

She didn't know how long she spent there before she calmed down enough to lift her head, and take a long breath of air. She barely got through it before she gasped, noticing that she wasn't alone. Just to her right, there was a person seated, watching her curiously.

Okay, not a person, per se. A House Elf.

The little creature blinked innocently, his wide eyes so gentle, before he produced a handkerchief for her to use. She gratefully reached for it, whispering a quiet 'thank you,' and wiped at her eyes and nose. She felt ridiculous.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, trying to stay calm. It wouldn't do to start crying again. They weren't worth it.

But they were. Well, _he_ was.

The sound of a _pop_ startled her, and she opened her eyes to find that she was alone again. She wasn't sure if she felt relieved or disappointed. There'd been something oddly comforting about knowing that the Elf was just there, whoever he was.

She let out a long sigh, before she lifted the handkerchief to her nose again, her eyes just now catching sight of the actual item. There was something familiar about it. It was white in colour, with black and green embroidery.

Oh.

Hermione spied a set of initials in the corner, and her heart hiccupped.

 _H.J.P._

Of course.

This time, she buried her face in the handkerchief, and sobbed for every lie the boy with the green eyes had ever told her.

* * *

.

* * *

Harry couldn't be sure that he was actually walking in the right direction, but he eventually found himself in the library, standing in front of Luna as she worked on some assignment. It had been a strange week for him, and the fog in his vision just wasn't going away. And then _this_ happened. Why did Hermione -

 _Huh?_

It took Luna a moment to notice him and, at the sight of his face and at the odd sound that he was making, she was up out of her seat and moving towards him.

"Merlin, Harry, what's wrong?" she asked in a hurry, her face giving away all her concern.

He turned his head very slowly to look at her. "She thinks I'm like James," he said softly. "She thinks I'm like James, Luna. She thinks I don't love her."

Luna frowned. "What are you talking about?" she asked.

Harry shook his head roughly, as if he were trying to clear it. "Something is wrong with me, Luna," he said carefully, somewhat lucidly. "I don't know what, but I can't seem to - " he stopped abruptly. Then, as if he were rebooting, he said: "I have to break up with Hermione."

Luna's eyes widened, her mouth dropping open. She definitely wasn't expecting to hear _that_. "What? Harry?"

Harry jerked, his eyes darting about in a panic. "Help me," he whispered, suddenly dropping to his knees and sucking in a deep breath. "Something is wrong. Something is wrong with me."

"Okay," Luna said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Can you stand? Where should we go? What should I do?"

Harry's heart was beating so fast; it was practically humming. Luna could even feel it through his skin. "Hospital Wing," he choked out, reaching out for the closest chair to help himself stand up. Once he was upright, he seemed to jerk to attention, and Luna stepped back, watching her friend with wide eyes.

"Harry," she said gently, wary of reaching out to touch him again. "Let's go to Madam Pomfrey," she said.

He started nodding, his eyes looking glassy, as he allowed her to lead him out of the library.

Admittedly, Luna hadn't seen much of her best friend in the last week, so she was a little thrown by what was going on. He'd been slightly aloof and unfocused, which wasn't particularly unlike him, but hadn't happened in a while. When Hermione'd mentioned her concerns; Luna hadn't thought there was much to worry about.

But _this_.

Something was clearly wrong, and she hadn't even noticed. What kind of friend was she?

Harry shuffled his way along the corridors, using the gentle pressure of Luna's hand on his arm to keep him grounded. His head was throbbing, and all he could think about was Hermione saying: " _Like father like son_."

Because she _knew_. She knew what that meant, and she'd said it to his face, in front of everyone.

Luna pushed the doors open when they reached the Hospital Wing. "Madam Pomfrey," she called out. "Madam Pomfrey!"

A moment later, the MediWitch was scurrying out of her office. "Oh dear," she said at the sight of Harry. "What's happened?"

Luna had no clue. "Uh, he just hasn't been acting like himself," she said instead. "He _knows_ that something is wrong with him, and I think that he's been trying to fight it, but..." she trailed off. "Can you help?"

Madam Pomfrey hurried towards them, her head nodding as she took out her wand to run diagnostics on the wizard. "Help me bring him to the bed, won't you, darling?" she eventually said, her brow furrowed.

"Do you know what's wrong with him?" Luna asked, her voice smaller than usual. Merlin, how could she have not noticed that something was wrong with her best friend?

"He's very dehydrated," she said, helping her get Harry situated. "There's something in his system, Miss Lovegood; do you know what?"

"No," Luna said immediately, frowning. "Someone fed him something?"

"I doubt he fed it to himself," she replied, stepping back. "We'll have to use a concentrated Purging Potion. I'll be right back."

Luna stepped towards where Harry was lying. She gently ran a hand through his hair. "You're okay," she said quietly. "We're going to take care of you, Harry. You just relax, all right?"

He looked terrified.

"You're okay," she said again. "You're okay."

Harry reached for her hand. "She doesn't know that I love her," he whispered. "Will you tell her? You have to tell her, Luna. She has to know."

Before she could reply, Madam Pomfrey was back. "Mr Potter, you're going to have to drink these for me," she said. "What's going to happen isn't going to be pretty, but you'll feel much better once it's over."

He looked at her with wide eyes, before he turned his head to look at Luna.

"Go on, Harry," she said; "you'll feel better, I promise."

Harry eventually nodded, and Madam Pomfrey placed a vial against his lips. He drank dutifully, before she fed him another two vials of different colour potions. Luna would ask about them later. But for now, she kept her eyes on Harry Potter, who was looking at her curiously.

For a moment, everything about him stilled, and his facial expression calmed. For that moment, everything about him was beautifully peaceful.

And then it started.

* * *

Six hours and three violent potions purges later, Harry Potter was sleeping soundly in a hospital bed, and Luna was penning a letter to Lily Evans. Owing to the fact that Harry hadn't been brought into the Infirmary unconscious, no letter was automatically sent to James Potter, which was a complete and utter relief to all parties involved.

Madam Pomfrey made sounds of disapproval as she bustled about the large room, her eyes continually drifting Harry's way, as if she were expecting him to wake up at any moment now.

Luna needed him to wake up. She needed to see his eyes, clear and happy. She needed to hear his voice tell her that everything was going to be okay. Because, right now, she didn't think that at all.

Sure enough, ten minutes later - notably _after_ Madam Pomfrey disappeared into her office - Harry's eyes snapped open, and he wriggled about in obvious panic. Luna was up and out of her seat in an instant, her face moving into his line of vision.

"You're okay," she said, trying to calm him down. "Harry, you're okay. It's just you and me here. You're okay."

His eyes still darted about, taking in the empty room.

"There's nobody else here," she said quietly. "Just me and Madam Pomfrey. Neville wasn't allowed to stay, but I fought tooth and nail."

He stilled instantly, and let out a tired breath as he moved to sit up. He reached for his glasses on the side table, and just held them in his hand for a moment as if he were using them to ground himself. He slowed his breathing, and then placed his glasses on his nose. "Hi," he said to Luna, his voice hoarse. His throat hurt, but he pushed through it.

"Hey you."

He took in another deep breath. "What happened?" he asked on the exhale.

Luna sat down in her chair once more, her eyes flickering towards Madam Pomfrey's closed office door. "I assume you remember some things," she said to Harry.

He nodded.

"There were several potions in your system, Harry," she said gently. "It's one of the reasons you were hard-wired to break up with Hermione, but you were fighting it. There was a memory potion involved as well. That's why you were so confused about everything. It's the reason why you've been so out of it this last week."

Harry dropped his gaze, suddenly remembering just what had happened in the Common Room. "A whole week?"

She nodded. "Does it feel like you were trapped in some kind of time bubble?" she asked.

He nodded his head yes. Then: "What time is it?"

Luna checked the clock on the far wall. "Uh, just after eleven o'clock."

He shook his head. "I've been out for a while then, haven't I?"

"Six hours, give or take," she supplied. "After the first time, you woke up twice to, uh, expel the potions, as it were."

"Lovely."

"We're definitely the best of friends now."

"Sorry," he said with a grimace. "And thank you."

Luna smiled gently. "Now, can _you_ tell me what happened? You were saying a lot of things when you found me."

He couldn't look at her.

"You're okay now, Harry," she said. "I promise."

He let out a tired breath, shifting slightly. Before he started to speak, he took a sip of water. His throat felt raw, and he wasn't sure how much he would be able to say. "Uh," he began. "I didn't tell you but, after the Quidditch match, Ginny kissed me."

Luna's eyes widened. "What? Why would she do such a thing?"

"I don't know," he admitted truthfully. "There was a moment, Luna, when I considered _yes_ , you know? Just because I'd never known, but then... I told her no." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I made the decision not to tell Hermione because I didn't want to hurt her." His heart hurt when he thought of Hermione. Her look of utter devastation. It was like it was burned into his brain. "I didn't think she'd believe me."

Luna just nodded, trying to understand.

"But Ginny didn't hear _no_ ," he said, shivering slightly. He lifted the covers up over his shoulders, as if the fabric could somehow protect him. "Luna," he whispered, and she shot out of her chair. She perched herself on the edge of his bed and drew him against her chest, holding him close while she plotted Ginevra Weasley's demise.

Luna ran a soothing hand up and down his back, trying desperately to keep him calm. He'd never reacted this way to anything that had happened to him before. Jack had done _everything_ to him, but he was always able to bounce back, because he was convinced that it was James behind it. Even Voldemort hadn't managed to elicit this response, so what was it about this time that had him freaking out like this?

"I didn't know what I was doing," he mumbled against her, and she could hear the tears in his voice. "It was like it wasn't me. I wasn't in control." He closed his eyes tightly, wrapping his arms around Luna and clutching her tightly. "I tried," he cried. "I tried _so hard_." He took in a shaky breath. "Then she told me that I had to break up with Granger to be with her, and I just - " he hiccupped. "God, Granger's face, Luna... She was so heartbroken; so full of hatred. I did that to her. _I_ did that. She hates me. She's never going to forgive me."

"Ssh," Luna cooed, trying to stop him from working himself into some sort of panic attack. "Let's not worry about that now, okay?"

Harry could only nod.

It was in that position that Madam Pomfrey eventually found them. She bristled for a moment, before she accepted what was and refrained from reprimanding them. Instead, she cleared her throat, and the two of them pulled apart.

"Welcome back, Mr Potter," she said softly, decidedly not commenting on his red eyes or wet cheeks. "Have you had something to drink?" she asked, needing to make sure that he stayed hydrated.

Luna picked up the cup of water on his nightstand and handed it to Harry, who drank it all in one go. He was surprised by his own thirst. Madam Pomfrey quickly poured more water for him, and he greedily drank some more.

Madam Pomfrey quickly cast a few more diagnostic spells, before she nodded in satisfaction. "The purging was a success," she said rather timidly. "From the tests on the, umm, expelled matter; I was able to complete my report on what exactly was in your system."

Harry grimaced. "I'm sorry you had to do that," he whispered.

"It's all part of the job," she said kindly, smiling warmly at him. "What I did find is alarming though, Mr Potter. Under normal circumstances, it would be grounds for legal action, in fact."

Harry blinked rapidly.

Madam Pomfrey stepped towards him. "Am I right to assume that you remember things more clearly now?"

He nodded numbly.

"I won't beat around the bush here, Mr Potter; but the chances of anything actually going through the Wizengamot are slim," she confessed. "Regardless of the severity of the accusation, you are a Halfblood, and the potions I found in your system are typically of Pureblood descent."

Luna finished off the thought. "He wouldn't stand a chance."

"Especially if my father's an Auror," Harry said quietly, and that was the most important bit. "He'd more likely sweep it all under the rug before my mum could even get to Madam Bones." He suddenly gasped. "My mum!"

"She hasn't been informed yet," Madam Pomfrey told him.

Harry wasn't sure if he was relieved or not. "What's that?" he asked, his eyes travelling to the parchment sitting on the chair that Luna had vacated.

"I was actually writing to her," Luna replied.

"Don't," he said automatically. "She'll just worry, and then she'll come here, and I don't want her to know yet." He took a deep breath. "I have to tell her myself."

Luna nodded in understanding. "Do you want to use my Mirror?"

The thought of going back to the Gryffindor Common Room, even entering his dormitory to fetch his own Communication Mirror was frightening. What if he saw Hermione? Or Ginny? Not for the first time, Harry felt overwhelmed by everything that just happened. His breaths became shorter and his heart started to race.

Luna noticed his panic and she immediately took hold of his closest hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "Harry," she said soothingly. "You're okay now. I promise you're okay now."

Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat. "You'll spend the night here, Mr Potter," she said gently. "No decisions have to be made right now. You'll speak to your mother in the morning, and then you can go from there."

Harry took a deep breath. "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."

"And you, Miss Lovegood," she said, turning to look at the young Ravenclaw.

"Madam Pomfrey," Luna said innocently. "I can't possibly leave him to spend the night alone."

The MediWitch shook her head. Then: "You're welcome to spend the night, but it's going to have to be in your own bed."

That made Luna blush, but she happily hopped off the edge of Harry's bed. She gathered her parchment, before she practically skipped towards the bed next to Harry's, just behind where Madam Pomfrey was standing.

It took them both a little while to get settled, and Madam Pomfrey wished them both goodnight, before disappearing into her office, which Harry assumed led to her own living quarters as well.

It was suddenly very quiet, and his mind ran away with him. He recalled _everything_ that had happened in the past week and it hurt his heart. Oh Hermione. He couldn't even fathom what she was feeling right now.

"Hey," Luna said, catching his attention. "I can feel your magic."

"She hates me," he whispered.

"She doesn't," Luna countered immediately.

"You didn't see her, Luna," he argued. "You didn't see it in her eyes. She was hurt. She was so hurt that she - " he stopped abruptly. She was so hurt that she'd said the one thing that she knew would hurt him the most. She had to hate him to do that, and nothing that Luna said would convince him otherwise.

"Get some sleep, Harry," Luna said soothingly. "We can worry about everything in the morning."

Her words did nothing to appease him, but he did eventually roll onto his back, remove his glasses and try desperately to shut his mind off. It didn't work, and it was well after two o'clock when exhaustion eventually caught up to him, and he practically passed out.

When Harry woke up, he was alone in the Infirmary. On his nightstand, beside his glasses, was a small mirror and a folded note. He took his time stretching out and retrieving his glasses before he sat up. It was bright outside, and it was hurting his eyes.

Another day.

He lifted the note and spied Luna's familiar scrawl.

 _Call your mother. Tell her everything._

 _Would have stayed but I have a Charms test first lesson. Wish me luck._

 _See you at lunch._

 _LL_

He couldn't help but smile. But it quickly fell away when he remembered just why he was in the Hospital Wing in the first place. He let out a pained sound that he didn't immediately recognise, and his heart started to race.

Before the fresh tears came, he reached for the Communication Mirror and called his mother.

* * *

The students were still in class when Harry eventually returned to Gryffindor Tower. He went alone, because his mother was still discussing things with Madam Pomfrey regarding what was going to happen now. The MediWitch was being surprisingly helpful and Harry made a mental note to figure out a way to thank her for her obvious kindness. He didn't know what about this particular visit to the Infirmary made her _care_ , but he was too tired of the politics to force himself to analyse it.

His Head of House hadn't even come to check on him.

Once he was in his dormitory, Harry took out a set of fresh clothes and his toiletries. He needed a shower, desperately. Even though his mother assured him that he didn't actually smell atrocious, he still _felt_ disgusting, and he wanted to get clean before he left the Castle.

He took a long, hot shower, washing away all the remnants of the previous day, and it was a refreshed, though rather lethargic, Harry Potter who emerged from the bathroom. He made quick work of packing his trunk with all of his things - save for a piece of parchment and a pen - shrinking it, and then putting it in his pocket. He cast one look at his bed, and then at Jack's before he went down to the Common Room and sat down at one of the tables. He had a letter to write.

It was addressed to Hermione, and it told her everything she needed to know if she didn't give him the chance to _tell_ her. She had to know that he was sorry; that he'd never meant to hurt her. She had to know that he wasn't in control; that he never would have dreamed of a day that he would hurt her. Never like that.

Harry couldn't help the hurt that he felt whenever he thought about her reaction to what she thought was true. He liked to think that she might have given him the benefit of the doubt, but she'd been so sure. It wasn't as if he blamed her, not really, but that didn't make it hurt any less. The words she said were designed to wound him, and she'd said them knowing how it would affect him.

Harry couldn't imagine a day that he would ever be angry enough to use her deepest fears against her. She could have been the one to betray him, and he still wouldn't have said anything about her parents being right not to want her. He felt sick even thinking it.

Which was why he felt physical pain whenever he thought about it.

Harry was still sitting at the table when students started to trickle into the Common Room. Some of them looked surprised to see him sitting there, and he could only imagine what rumours were already being spread about him and what had happened. He let out a long sigh. He didn't care what they thought. It didn't matter to him. What _did_ matter was what Hermione thought of him, and he needed her to understand.

He needed her to _see_.

The Common Room immediately fell silent when Hermione returned from her classes. Her eyes automatically settled on Harry, and they widened at his haggard appearance. Her immediate response was to rush towards him and comfort him in some way, but she stayed completely still. Even when he stood up and took cautious steps towards her; she didn't move.

"Granger," he said softly, his voice barely a rasp. "Do you think we could please talk?" he asked, his tone so sincere that she was bound to give in.

"She doesn't want to talk to you!" a voice boomed behind her, and Hermione caught Harry's flinch. Gone was the charming boy, or the boy who would have thrown something straight back at Jack without a second's thought. "Just leave her alone, Black!"

Harry kept his eyes on Hermione, as he practically shrunk in place. "Hermione," he pleaded. There was _so much_ in his voice, that she took an automatic step towards him.

Jack immediately put an arm across her to halt her movement. "Hermione, what are you doing?" he asked incredulously. "Have you forgotten what he did?"

Hermione's head snapped towards Jack. "I haven't forgotten," she hissed at him. "I haven't forgotten a lot of things, Jack Potter. Now, please will you drop your hand!"

Jack shifted uncomfortably, before he did as instructed.

As soon as Jack's arm was gone, Hermione moved towards Harry. She stopped about a metre away from him. It was difficult to look at him. He looked like he'd barely slept, and he just looked thinner. What had happened to him?

"Do you want to talk here?" he asked softly. "Or, uh, would you rather...?" he trailed off, his eyes darting about. He stepped back, and then moved to stand behind the table he'd been sitting at, as if he needed some kind of physical boundary between himself and... and what?

Hermione looked around the room. Everyone was watching Harry. Hermione couldn't mistake the anguish and _hatred_ on his face. What on earth was happening to him?

Harry's eyes settled on her eventually, but he didn't step out from behind the table. "I'm sorry," he said so softly that she strained to hear him. "I'm so sorry, Granger. I never meant for..." He shifted his body again, his eyes following movement behind Hermione. "She kissed me after the Hufflepuff game," he explained quietly, and Hermione was forced to step towards him to hear him better. "There was a moment; it could have been more, but I pushed her away. I wanted you. I've always wanted only you - " His body shifted again.

He waited a long moment, until the Room settled down again. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't think you'd believe me. I accepted my decision, and I thought it would be fine, but I was wrong. I'm so sorry." His eyes darted to Hermione's left, and she turned to see Ginny standing there, her expression unreadable.

Harry swallowed thickly. "I have no excuses for _that_ , but what came after... this last week, it wasn't me," he said. "I'd never - I wouldn't - Granger, you have to understand that - " The words just wouldn't come. Not with Ginny standing right there. He felt so weak; so damn powerless to her presence, as if she still had control over him. He could still hear her voice telling him to love her instead.

Telling him to break up with Hermione and be with her.

Harry might have found it amusing that that was finally the thing that made him crack. Ginny had to have known that breaking up with Hermione wouldn't have been possible, and yet there they all were.

The words just wouldn't come.

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter that he'd scribbled. The words wouldn't come out of his mouth, even though she looked like she was willing to listen. How pathetic was he?

"I wrote to you," Harry said, bravely moving towards her. "I wanted you to know the truth, because I don't think anyone else ever will."

She frowned.

Harry held the letter out for her. "Just know that I'm sorry, Granger. I know I've hurt you, but you have to understand that I never meant to."

"It hurts all the same, Harry," she said, unable to resist speaking.

He grimaced.

Somehow, he'd expected silence, and her tone had a scary bite to it. "I know," he said tiredly. "Just know that I mean it." It was as clear as day in his eyes. "Know this, and know that," he hesitated, his voice dropping to barely a whisper. "I think that I might even love you."

Her breath hitched.

Harry rocked back the moment that Ginny moved. She moved right into Hermione's periphery.

"He came onto me, you know, Hermione," Ginny said, as she'd been saying all day. Hermione wasn't hearing any of it. The desperation in the redhead's voice alerted her to the truth more than anything. Ginny'd never expected to be found out. At least not until she and Harry were broken up.

Which just made Hermione wonder about Jack's role in all of this.

It was such a mess. What had they done? Why had any of this even happened? _Why_.

Harry cringed at the sound of Ginny's voice, and he knew that he had to get out of there as soon as possible. He moved around Hermione's right side, coming to a stop right near her. "I'm so sorry," he said again, his breath washing across her cheek. "This was never supposed to happen."

"But it did, Harry."

His eyes glanced past her to Ginny. "It didn't have to."

That was the last thing he would say to her. It might've even been the last time he would see her; he didn't know. But he walked away regardless. His mother was waiting for him, and Harry Potter was going home.


	14. The Little Things Give You Away

**Chapter Fourteen: The Little Things Give You Away**

Hermione allowed him to walk away. She couldn't think of anything to say to him, so she decided on nothing. _I might even love you_. She knew that there was a way to respond to that, but the words hadn't come. She guessed that he hadn't expected much of a response anyway.

She was all too aware of the people standing around her. Jack was on her right side, and Ginny was standing on her left. She wanted absolutely nothing to do with either one of them, and she couldn't fight off just how _alone_ she suddenly felt. She should have been able to write to her mother about things like these. She should have had parents who _cared_.

"Hermione," Jack started, and her head snapped towards him. Her glare was so intense that he clamped his mouth shut.

She took a deep breath. It wouldn't do to blow up at Jack _now_. "Please don't start," she said tensely. "I'm fine." Which was a lie. She definitely _wasn't_ fine. Neither was Harry, by the look of things. He looked particularly traumatised, and Hermione could only guess as to the reason why. Perhaps the guilt was too much, she didn't know.

She looked down at the letter he'd given her, and she had half a mind to chuck it into the fire. She didn't want to read his words. She'd lay eyes on his familiar messy scrawl, and she couldn't say how it would affect her. She wanted to stay angry. She was safe when she was angry. Any feeling other than that, and she was convinced she would fall apart all over again.

Tucking the letter into the pocket of her robes, Hermione took a deep, calming breath, and then continued on her way to her dormitory. She really didn't need to deal with _people_ now. It wasn't even about Jack or Ginny; just _people_ in general. She hated that this was her life now; that the entire school now knew that her boyfriend had cheated on her _with her best friend_. God, this was horrible.

As soon as she was safely behind the curtains of her bed and a Silencing Charm, she broke down in tears. She cried for all she'd lost, and all she'd gained. It was too much. All of it.

How did they even get here?

Hermione wasn't sure how long she spent crying, until she took out Harry's letter. Her name was written at its top, beckoning to her. There was no way that she would be able to _not_ read it. There'd been something in his eyes; something in the tone of his voice that was making her consider that he was telling the truth. There was _some_ truth to the words he said, and Hermione's nature wouldn't allow her to let it go.

Hermione unfolded the letter, and started to read.

.

 _Dear Hermione_

 _There are things that you'll hear; things that people will tell you; but I want to tell you everything that happened as I remember it. I hope you'll bear with me, and possibly reserve judgement for the duration of this letter. Just know that I'm sorry. I'm deeply, deeply sorry that all of this has happened._

 _After the Quidditch_ _match against Hufflepuff, Ginny came to my room and asked me a few questions, about me and about you. I refused to answer. She kissed me. For a moment, I let her, and then I pushed her away. I told her 'no.' I'm very sure of that._

 _I'm not making any excuses because the guilt of it has eaten away at me for weeks. I agonised over what to tell you, and eventually decided on nothing. I don't know if you recall a conversation that we once had, but you helped me decide. All I knew is that I wanted to be with you, and not her. I convinced myself that it didn't matter, but I was wrong._

 _Now, I wish I'd told you. I just didn't want to hurt you, and now look at what's happened._

 _She did something to me. Something that made me not me. Believe me when I say that I already know what it's like not to be in control, and I never want to experience what she did to me ever again._

 _She saw you and me together, and she wanted it for herself. It's as you said. She wanted what we had, and she thought that I would be the one to give it to her. Madam Pomfrey says it's some kind of Potion cocktail, that shifts my loyalty, makes me pliable and affects my memory. She tried to change me. Then she instructed me to break up with you. I believe that was the crack in her plan, because that's the moment it all fell apart._

 _I'm not trying to be funny or whatever it is you're thinking right now. It's the truth. The mere thought of not being with you was enough to overpower whatever was going on inside me, and I was able to get to Luna. She took me to the Infirmary, and now here we are._

 _I asked Luna not to tell you, because I wanted you to hear it from me. If you're reading this letter, then I must not have done a good job of it. I don't doubt that she'll end up telling you things anyway. I also suspect that she's plotting Ginny's demise as I write this._

 _I'm a halfblood, so there isn't much hope with the Wizarding Laws, but my mum is still going to look into it. Ginny's not Jack. She doesn't have the same protection that he has, though she still has some because of her family's Order status. That's the crux of it all, isn't it? The 'Greater Good.' I hope you won't hate me if something does happen to her - Sirius was screaming bloody murder, so who knows? If anything, I'd want her to stay as far away from me as possible._

 _I know that you've always made your own decisions, and I've tried to accept and understand them, but please just stop and think. This thing that she did was never about me, and we both know it._

 _I've gone home for a bit. I need to be at home, I think. Away from everything, and with my mum. I think it will also do you good not to see me everyday. We've both said and done enough to each other for a while._

 _If I don't get to say any of this to you when I see you, please believe that I tried. I want you to know how much you mean to me. You have to know that this is the last thing I ever wanted to happen to us, because I was happy. I truly was, with you._

 _Always with you._

 _Love,_

 _Harry_

 _._

Hermione read the letter another two times, her tears continuing to fall. At this rate, she wasn't sure if they would ever stop. Her heart was aching, and her head was pounding. What had Ginny done to them? And _why_?

"Oh Harry," she said, clutching the letter to her chest. "What did she do to you?" She shook her head. "What did she do to _us_?"

* * *

Harry didn't return to the Castle. There was a lot of talk, and then there just wasn't any anymore. Stories were conflicting and, based on the fights that Hermione and Ginny were constantly having; all the rumours were just getting twisted.

But Harry still didn't return.

When Easter Break was upon them, Hermione accepted that she probably wouldn't see him until after the Break. At least, that was what Luna told her. Hermione expected the petite blonde to be more wary of her, possibly even hate her; but Luna seemed to understand more than Hermione gave her credit for. As long as Hermione knew the truth. Really, Hermione would have welcomed the Ravenclaw's yelling. She _wanted_ to be called an idiot for ever thinking that Harry never wanted _her_.

So, Hermione went about her days in abject silence. When she wasn't in class, or _forced_ into conversations with Ginny or Jack; she was silent. Always contemplative, searching for something; waiting for something, anything.

Waiting for Harry.

Hermione's heartbreak was too much to put into words, even though she _knew_ that Harry wasn't truly at fault. If anything, _she_ was. And Ginny. God, what was the redhead thinking? Did she even stop to think about what she was doing? To Harry, and to Hermione.

No, apparently not, if she kept leading with the same lines.

"We didn't mean to hurt you," Ginny said, catching Hermione on her way out of her dormitory. It was the word 'w _e_ ' that always gave Hermione pause. She'd suspected Jack's involvement, and it was like a slap to the face when Ginny always unwittingly confirmed it. It made no sense. All of it. No sense at all.

What were they thinking? _Were_ they even thinking?

She learned from Ron - surprisingly, the only somewhat remorseful participant in the big mess that Ginny created- that he and Jack didn't actually know what Ginny had planned, but they'd made no move to stop her. Hermione couldn't decide if that was better or worse.

Should it have been surprising that Jack Potter _was_ an opportunistic idiot?

She'd yet to confront Jack about it, because she didn't even know what to say him - or _if_ she even wanted to say anything. She was ignoring the hell out of him though, and she would continue to do so until she could wrap her head around all that had happened. Really, there was only so much a teenager could handle. She wished that she too could go home - wherever that was.

"Just stop!" Hermione snapped, completely and utterly _over it_. She was so tired of hearing the same thing. The same lies.

"Hermione - "

"No!" she hissed. "I don't want to hear any more of this, okay? I'm done. I told you I was done. I don't want to see you; I don't want to talk to you. Just stay away from me, and maybe I can get through the next two years of school without killing you." It was dramatic, she knew; but Hermione was just so _tired_ of it all.

Ginny took a step back. "Hermione?"

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" she asked harshly. "Do you have any idea how _happy_ I was?" Then: "Or you did, and you wanted to take it away from me. What did you think? That, because he had a crush on you once upon a time, he would just jump into your arms the moment that you showed him any interest?"

"He did."

Hermione froze. Then, sighing, she said: "Maybe he did, yeah, for a moment, and I believe we could have worked through that, but what you've done now, Ginny; there's no excuse for it. And you know it!" Hermione could only forgive Harry's moment, because of her own moment with Jack. She liked to think she was above it all, but it still hurt to think about it.

Ginny had kissed him, and he hadn't told her.

But Jack had kissed her... and Hermione was sure that she probably wouldn't have told Harry either. Not because she thought he wouldn't believe her, but because she didn't want to hurt him. Still, after everything, she didn't think she would ever tell him.

But that just left Jack with ammunition, to be used anytime against Harry.

How would she even tell him? _Oh, remember how I accused you of cheating... well, it turns out that I did the exact same thing._ Hermione even snorted, and Ginny looked at her curiously. Maybe Hermione was going insane. She sometimes felt it.

"Please will you just leave me alone," Hermione eventually said, sounding defeated. She _felt_ defeated. This was undeniably the longest Easter Break of her entire life, and she missed Harry. There was no denying it. She missed him something fierce, and she had no idea what to do about it. There was no way to call him, and she didn't believe that a letter would suffice. She needed to hear his voice. She needed to _see_ him.

"We have to talk about this, Hermione," Ginny argued.

"There is nothing to talk about!" Hermione hissed. "Ginny, you kissed my boyfriend. And when he said no to your advances, you _drugged_ him. You drugged him. Do you even understand how messed up that is? I mean, why?"

"Huh?"

"Why did you do it? Why would you? Were you that mad that I wasn't spending as much time with you, because I really did try to include you after you and Jack broke up. I tried so hard to make time, so that I didn't neglect you, or Jack, or Harry. And then you go and do _this_! Why? What did I ever do to you?"

Of course, Hermione already had an idea behind Ginny's true reasoning, but she wasn't going to say it out loud. It didn't make sense to her that the redhead could have ever been _jealous_ of her. It was borderline inconceivable.

Ginny, wisely, didn't say a word.

"He meant everything to me," Hermione continued. "And he still does."

Ginny's eyebrows shot up. " _I'm_ your best friend, and he's the one you believe?"

Hermione shook her head, trying not to give in to the sudden hurt her words caused. When would the lies stop? "Ginny, please," she said. "Stop it. Stop it now. I know what you did. I _know_! All about it."

Ginny flinched.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," she said darkly; "I have better things to do than stand here and listen to your lies." With that, she turned on her heel and continued down the corridor, her mind reeling. She walked for quite some time, unsure of her destination until she found herself standing in front of Harry's desk in the library. Of course, it was empty, and she felt _it_.

 _She_ felt empty.

"Are you just going to stand and stare, or are you going to sit down?"

Hermione turned her head to spy Neville standing to her right, smiling crookedly. "Hey, Neville."

"Hey, Hermione," he said, moving around her to sit down in the seat he usually sat at when all four of them were sitting together. His movement prompted hers, and she walked around the table to sit down in the chair that was next to Harry's.

Neither of them spoke for a while as they settled in with their respective assignments. It wasn't that it was uncomfortable; it was just that there was something playing on Hermione's mind. Given her already perilous position with Harry; she didn't think that asking Neville what she needed to would be so harmful.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Say, Neville, can I ask you a question?"

The Hufflepuff waited a moment before he looked up, his eyes wider than normal. "What's on your mind?"

She set down her quill. "You don't like me all that much, do you?"

Neville immediately opened his mouth to argue with her, but quickly snapped it shut. He suspected that this was a conversation that was long overdue. "It's not that I don't like you," he began, somewhat cautiously.

"You just never liked me for Harry then?"

"I've never seen him happier than he was when he was with you," he said truthfully, and was rewarded with Hermione's blush. "It's just that, well, I've never truly been able to figure you out," he confessed.

She frowned.

"I know there are things that you don't let people see, and that's okay, but there's always been something about you that I've never understood."

"Just ask, Neville," she said.

"Why are you friends with Jack?" he asked, practically blurting it out. He took a breath. "I mean, if you've known how he treats Harry all these years; why are you friends with him? And why this year? Why _this_ year out of all of them? Is it because he decided this was _his_ year? I've always wondered why."

"Those are a lot of questions, Neville," she said quietly, her gaze dropping to the parchment in front of her. "I'm not sure what you want to hear," she said. "Harry seems to think that I'm this great person, but I'm not. He doesn't accept that I'm deeply, deeply flawed."

Neville looked skeptical. "You _did_ know what Jack was doing, right?"

Hermione didn't say anything.

"Hermione?"

"Have you ever worn rose-coloured glasses?" she asked suddenly, her gaze meeting his. "Like, you see things, but you don't? Like, you _know_ things, but somehow choose not to, because the consequences of acknowledging are too much to deal with in the moment?"

"I can't believe that you would turn a blind eye for social status," he pointed out.

"It wasn't about that," she told him. "Not about social status. It was about safety." She couldn't even look at him, the shame eating at her from the inside out. "My entire life has been disappointment after disappointment. At this stage, I'm pretty much used to it. Before Hogwarts, I'd never really had friends. I'm too much of a bookworm, and I don't really view the world the way that others do, which makes it difficult for me to forge relationships.

"When I got here, I couldn't quite turn _me_ off." She shook her head. "When I became friends with Ron and Jack, something happened. Something I've never truly been able to explain. So, yeah, I knew of some things, but not everything." She met Neville's gaze. "There's a lot more behind his hatred, and I'm one of those that can see through it. All he does is because of his father, and somebody has to help him find his way. I don't expect you to understand, Neville, but - "

"Harry understands, doesn't he?"

She risked a smile. "I'm convinced he's a man in a boy's body."

"His mother's definitely raising him right."

Hermione fiddled with the hem of her shirt. "I know the Jack behind it all," she continued, forcing the words out. "Behind the whole Boy-Who-Lived facade, and behind this hateful front he puts up to impress his father. He's a teenage boy who's just as lost as the rest of us." She had to stand by that now more than anything, because she couldn't quite see where her friendship with Jack stayed intact.

Did she even want it to? She didn't see a way for them to get past this. Really, the end of their friendship had been inevitable for a while now, and only Hermione's fear of who she'd be without him kept it together.

But now? Now, she was sure she'd rather be alone than have friends like those.

What did that make her? How was _this_ the final straw? Where did she draw the line? Really, it made her feel dirty. This was what she deserved, wasn't it? No. She was done. If Jack wanted to better himself, he'd have to figure it out without her. And Ginny. She was done with her too.

Where did that leave her?

Neville just nodded thoughtfully, deciding that this was one complicated girl. Then: " _And_ you always felt temporary," he said after a moment.

"What?"

"Like, you always had one foot out the door," he explained. "Like, you would never ever truly be his when Jack still had a claim to you. Like, you never willingly gave him _all of you_ , and maybe that's because you were scared of getting hurt, but I always got the feeling that, every time you were with us or with him; it was always a matter of time until you just _weren't_."

All she could do was stare at him.

"I don't know," he concluded; "it was just a feeling I got." With that, he returned to his work and, after a moment, Hermione did too. She was safe in her books. They didn't expect anything from her. Though, she expected quite a bit from them.

Eventually, the two of them were joined by Luna, and they all settled into a semi-comfortable working silence.

It was Luna who first voiced what all of them were thinking about: a certain green-eyed wizard. "So, Harry gets back on Sunday," she said. "As far as I know, at least."

"What does that mean?" Hermione asked.

"I know that he and his mother have been toying with the idea of homeschooling for a while now," she said. "I think they were waiting for after he wrote his O.W.L.s, but he could probably write them now and pass easily. I suspect they're all options that they've considered."

Hermione just blinked. "Are you trying to tell me that there's a possibility that Harry might not come back?"

Luna nodded.

"But...?"

Neville looked equally concerned. "He would tell us first, wouldn't he? He'd tell us, right? I mean, he wouldn't just leave forever and not tell us. Harry wouldn't do that."

"Neville," Luna said. "Calm down. I just said it's a possibility; not that it's _going to_ happen." Truthfully, she didn't look all that convinced, and it did nothing to ease Hermione's racing heart.

So it was a truly anxious Hermione Granger waiting for Harry Potter in the Common Room come late Sunday evening, mentally going over everything that she wanted to say when she saw him. She suspected that he waited until the last possible moment to enter Gryffindor Tower, and she really didn't blame him. She wouldn't want to see anyone either.

Hermione was nervous, that was for sure. Would he even want to talk to her after everything she'd said about him and his father?

If Harry was surprised to see her there when he _finally_ stepped through the portrait hole, he didn't show it. His eyes rather softened at the sight of her, as if he'd missed just being able to _see_ her. He looked better than he had before he left, but there was still something sitting heavily on his shoulders. Those strong, burdened shoulders.

"Harry," she said, standing up. It took everything she had not to rush to him and throw her arms around him.

"Granger."

"How was your Break?" she asked, choosing to start somewhere safe.

There was a moment; a moment when he decided to allow them to pretend that things were okay. He could tell that she needed this from him, so he was going to give it to her. "It was interesting," he said casually. "I got to witness my mum and Sirius actually being officially _together_ , but it really didn't seem like anything actually changed."

"That's understandable," she commented.

He remained silent.

She shifted her weight from her left foot to her right, and then back again. "I spent parts of the Break with Luna," she told him when he didn't ask after her own Break. "She told me _things_."

Harry dropped his gaze.

"And I read your letter," she added. "For a while, I considered not reading it, but I couldn't not read the words. They came from you."

He made a pained sound, wishing that she would just get to the point already.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "God, Harry, I'm sorry for so many things." She took a small step towards him, and he took an involuntary step back. She tried not to read too much into it. "I'm sorry that being with me made her hurt you the way that she did. That was the last thing you deserved, and I'm also sorry that I didn't believe you when you said you didn't _know_. I was just so angry, and you mentioned a kiss, and I just saw red. I'm also sorry for everything I said." She took in a shuddering breath. "I didn't mean it. You are nothing like your father."

He refused to look at her.

She risked another step towards him. "You are kind, and you are so caring and loving," she said. "After everything this world has thrown your way; you are so much _more_ , and I am so sorry that I used your fears to hurt you. I just - I suppose I just wanted you to feel how I felt. But you didn't deserve that; _especially_ not from me. These past few days have been awful, but you have to know that I choose you, okay? I believe _you_ , and not her."

Harry let out a long breath. "There's nothing to be done," he said. "Apparently Purebloods are allowed to do this kind of thing, and it helps her case that _you're_ a Muggleborn."

Hermione couldn't help her shudder. She hadn't truly considered that this whole thing was also an act of malice towards _her_.

"Mum went to Madam Bones," he explained. "Wanted to know the options, and there are none." He laughed humourlessly. "I considered not coming back, you know? Mum said it was all right, but - " he stopped suddenly. "I couldn't do that. Not to Luna and Neville. And, deep down, I knew I couldn't do that to you."

She just looked at him.

"I managed to get a Protection Order though," he added solemnly. "I demanded it, and Sirius agreed. He would declare her an Enemy of House Black, but with the War coming; we already have enough enemies. She's not allowed in Headquarters though, which definitely didn't go down well with Mrs Weasley. Doesn't she get it? Jack is a Potter, and so am I. This thing she did, if my father even gave a rat's ass about me, would be insulting the House of Potter."

Harry shook his head. "Anyway, so she's not allowed within ten metres of me, and she's definitely not allowed to engage me in conversation. She's not allowed to be in the Common Room if I am, and she can't sit near me at the Gryffindor Table. Though, I think I'll go back to sitting with Luna and Neville, now that we're..." he trailed off. "What are we, Granger?"

What were they? Wasn't that the golden question...

"I don't know," she finally said. "I really don't know what happens now, Harry. Even if, somehow, we can forgive each other for what's happened; I can't - I don't think I can _be_ with you right now... I can't. I don't know what you want, but I'm just - " She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry that all this happened. It's all going to take time, isn't it?"

He nodded, never lifting his head high enough.

"But we can try being just friends again, can't we?" she found herself suggesting.

He finally looked up. "Is that what you want?"

"It won't be the same as it was, for obvious reasons," she said, needing him to know. "It'll be different."

All he knew was that he didn't want to lose her. "Just friends?" he asked. "That's not code for 'go away,' is it?"

"No, it's not."

He nodded thoughtfully. "But it'll be different?"

"Do you remember how we used to just _be,_ before all of this?"

"I told you that I'd never be able to go back to being just a stranger to you again, so I hope that's not what you're asking me to do," he said seriously, his face ashen.

"It's not," she assured him. "It's definitely not. I just - it can't be as it was."

"Because I broke your trust?"

She shook her head no. It wasn't that at all. "No, it's not," she said. "I do trust you. Harry. It's because, the moment that I thought that you did, I wasn't surprised," she explained solemnly; "Which is to do with _me_. And that's something that _I_ need to work on before you and I can - " she stopped. Before they could what?

"I'm so sorry, Hermione."

She closed her eyes at the sound of her name from his lips. She had half a mind to tell him not to call her that, but it sounded too good for her to do that. A part of her was sure that this little break she was insisting on was just a waste of time. Somehow, they would find their way back to each other.

But, right now, she wasn't ready. And, really, she was convinced that he wasn't either. It would take them time to get back to what they had _before_. If 'before' was even what he wanted. She was too afraid of his answer, so she didn't ask.

So much for Gryffindor courage.

* * *

"Uh, Luna asked me to give this to you," Harry said, holding out a notebook for Hermione to take.

Hermione met his gaze, from her position in an armchair in the Gryffindor Common Room. "Do you know what it is?" she asked, automatically reaching for it.

He shrugged. "I stopped asking questions a long time ago," he said, risking a smile. He was determined for this interaction not to be awkward. They'd had to deal with enough of that, particularly after Ginny was presented with the Protection Order. Ron threw a fit, and Quidditch practices were extra tense, with the twins staring daggers into Harry's back.

Sure, _he_ was the one who was drugged, and they all blamed him for the consequences. What the hell kind of backwards world were they all living in? It _was not_ the victim's fault.

"She did tell me to tell you that you're to at least open it before the end of the day," he said, relaying the message. "Otherwise bad things will happen."

Her eyes snapped towards him. "Bad things?" she squeaked, before she caught sight of the amusement in his eyes. "Oh you," she laughed. "You're such an idiot."

"Maybe, maybe not."

She smiled at him, feeling her heart beat just that bit faster. This was her Harry; this was them before everything that happened, happened. This was what she wanted back and, for the first time, she was convinced that they could have it.

Before she could open her mouth to voice her thoughts, the portrait swung open, and Ginny, Jack and Ron stepped through. Harry immediately tensed, and Ginny shot him a dirty look.

"Oh, do you want me to go?" she asked sarcastically.

Any other day and Harry would have said 'yes,' but being in that room with _everyone_ else was the last thing he wanted. "Next time," he said, looking her right in the eye. "At least you haven't forgotten." He turned to look at Hermione. "Remember. Before the end of the day." And then he was gone, disappearing from the Common Room and leaving Hermione to deal with the aftermath of their conversation.

"Were you actually just talking to Harry?" Jack asked.

Hermione's eyes narrowed, practically daring him to continue with his line of questioning.

He did. "Why on earth would you still be talking to him?"

"Why on earth am I still talking to you?"

"I'm not the one who cheated on you with your best friend," he snapped, and Hermione was just able to hide her flinch.

"Well, I'm not the one who was privy to his ex-girlfriend possibly drugging his brother," she countered, and he had the decency to drop his gaze. "Who I talk to doesn't concern you, Jack Potter," she said.

"It does, when you're parading around here, just acting like - "

"Oh, would you just shut up, Jack," Ginny said from behind Jack. "Will you just leave her alone already? She clearly doesn't want to talk to you."

Jack glared at the redhead. "Shut up, Ginny," he hissed. "Nobody asked you."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Just leave her alone."

Jack huffed, and Hermione turned her gaze on Ginny, a frown on her face. What was the redhead trying to do? Was this all a manifestation of remorse because, really, Hermione wasn't having any of it.

"That's it?" Jack asked, forcing Hermione to look at him again. "Harry kisses Ginny, and you're talking to him already, but I ki - " he stopped suddenly, aware that they weren't alone.

"You what, Jack?" Hermione pressed, as she rose to her feet. "What exactly did you do, huh?"

He pressed his lips together, keeping quiet.

"What I do, and how I handle everything is _my_ business," she informed him, her voice devoid of all emotion. "Stop getting involved." Next, she turned to Ginny, who was now perched on the edge of the couch nearest the far wall, watching them with curious eyes. Somewhat darkly, she said: "I can take care of myself."

Ginny nodded. "Never thought you couldn't."

Hermione didn't spare her a glance more, before she was heading out of the Common Room, and up to her dormitory. It was hard enough trying to be Harry's friend as it was, and everyone else was just making it that bit harder. There were still rumours running around, and the Protection Order was anything but secret. _That_ merely resulted in completely wild stories that Hermione deftly tried her best to ignore.

Why couldn't they just leave them alone? Why couldn't they just mind their own business? Was it too much to ask?

Truly, in this school, it probably was. The only good thing was that it would probably be old news by the time the new school week rolled around.

Thank Merlin for small mercies.

* * *

Preparations for their O.W.L. exams took over their lives and Harry, Neville and Hermione fell into a study routine to rival even those preparing for their N.E.W.T.s. Well, while the three Fifth-Years worked studiously, Luna spent her time coming up with ways to bring pain to Jack Potter and the Weasley brood, particularly the youngest. Her plans would only take affect when they left Hogwarts because, really, why give the school any more to talk about?

Hermione didn't join Harry, Luna and Neville in the library as often as she used to, and she didn't engage in any conversation with either Ginny or Jack. She was also mad at Ron for being an accomplice, but he was the only one who apologised. Perhaps he'd received a firm stripping down from his mother - who knew? Either way, it meant something to her; something he probably wouldn't ever understand.

"It's the practical that's going to get me," Hermione said, sighing heavily. "I can do the theory fine, but DADA practicals are definitely not my forte. Especially since Umbridge doesn't believe it's something we have to learn." She huffed. "Have I ever mentioned how much I hate her?"

Neville let out an amused breath. "You may have mentioned it, once or twice."

The library was full of Fifth-Years preparing for their O.W.L.s and Seventh-Years gearing up for their N.E.W.T.s. Because their exams were administered by the Ministry of Magic; they started a week earlier than the rest of the school. They would all finish at the same time though, which was a bit of a relief. Someone somewhere decided to be kind to them.

Luna lifted her head to look at Hermione. "I'm sure Harry would help you if you asked," she said to the brunette. "He's actually really good at duelling."

Hermione didn't miss the fact that Harry shot Luna a glare. "He is?" she asked.

"Oh yeah," Neville said. " _Really_ good."

Hermione turned to look at Harry. "What are they talking about?"

He sighed. "It's nothing, really," he said. "It's just that, well, after last year, Sirius kind of, umm, _trained_ me over the summer. He wants me to be prepared for anything, if ever something like that happens again."

She blinked. "And what exactly _did_ happen?"

He looked so uncomfortable, as his eyes flicked towards Luna and Neville, before settling back on Hermione. "As I've told you before, I tend to get, umm, whisked away to wherever Jack and Tom are having it out. I remember sitting in the stands during the Third Task, and then I was just in a graveyard." He visibly shuddered at the memory. "Voldemort was being resurrected when I arrived, and there was nothing I could do to stop it." He dropped his gaze. "He's a monster, you know. I mean, he _is_ one, but now he _looks_ like one as well. It was terrifying. _I_ was terrified, so I can only imagine what Jack was feeling."

Hermione couldn't take her eyes off of him. The fact that he could just talk about the way that he was fascinated her. His eyes were focused elsewhere, but he was definitely talking to _her_. He knew that this was what she'd always wanted to know. This story, right here; she wanted to know the truth of it.

"Pettigrew was there," Harry continued. "He was bleeding from his hand, which I think was part of the Ritual to bring him back. Jack was tied up. They didn't hear me arrive, so I was able to hide behind one of the tombstones." He shook his head. "Looking back, I can't quite accept how _pathetic_ I was."

"That's awfully critical of yourself, Harry," Hermione said.

He sighed heavily.

Despite her words, he couldn't help what he felt. He'd been so unprepared. So _naive_. "He called his merry band of Death Eaters to him," he continued. "I never realised how the Dark Mark actually worked until I saw it in action that night. It's a terrifying thing, and Sirius said that a person has to do something awful to receive it. He didn't go into details, but I assume that it involves at least one of the Unforgivables."

Neville dropped his gaze, his fists clenching under the table. It took him a long time to get over the fake-Moody's lesson on the Unforgivables, and sometimes he wasn't sure he'd fully recovered. Even as he thought about it, his eyes flickered towards Hermione. He'd never actually thanked her for what she'd said to try to get fake-Moody to stop with the Cruciatus.

Huh? She really was a complicated person, wasn't she?

"His followers were hooded when they arrived, but Vold - _Tom_ \- was flaunting his return," Harry went on. "Showing off, as it were. Scolding them for believing him dead; for believing that a mere baby could have defeated them. I saw a few faces, only one of which I actually recognised. I've begged Sirius to take me to a Wizengamot session, so I can try to identify the others, but he thinks it's too dangerous." He looked annoyed for a moment, before his features softened. "I mean, I guess he's right, but I kind of wish he'd allow me to do more."

Hermione could only marvel at the similarities between the two brothers. They probably had absolutely no idea that they were actually so alike.

"Anyway, so, Tom wanted to duel with Jack, that much was clear," he continued. "He wanted to make a big show of it for his followers, you know? The Boy-Who-Lived was finally going to die in a duel for them all to see. I didn't - " he paused. "I didn't _do_ anything. I just watched." He dropped his gaze, his right hand absently playing with one of his quills. "Tom forced Jack to honour the rules of a duel, before it began. I remember Jack getting a few shots in before he too hid behind a tombstone. But then - "

Harry lifted his gaze and looked Hermione right in the eye. "I mean, I get it. I get it. Jack stood up to be counted," he said. "He stood up to fight and, frankly, I think I would have done the same thing." He dropped his gaze again. "It was so weird, you know? For the first time in _my_ life; I understood Jack."

He shuddered, as if the mere thought was blasphemy. "Anyway, they started to duel. He's not terrible, you know?"

Hermione didn't react to the underhanded compliment that he paid to Jack.

"I didn't know what to do," he admitted. "But then Jack kind of headed my way, and I pulled him behind the tombstone with me. He screamed, and I remember covering his mouth with my hand. He asked stupid questions, and I told him to shut up. I had an idea. Mum'd taught me how to make an emergency Portkey. It was actually an accident that I learned at all, and I told Jack to hold on to me. I t _old_ him, Granger. _I told him_. But did he listen?"

Hermione could only imagine the chaos of such a scene. To think that these boys had lived through it.

"One second, he was there, and the next, he was gone." Harry shook his head. "My Portkey skills were limited to the _immediate_ variety, and I needed Jack _there_." He sighed. "But, I mean, there was an actual reason he disappeared."

"Cedric," Hermione guessed.

"I didn't even know that he'd gone with Jack to the graveyard," he said sadly. "I didn't know he was - until - " he paused. "So, Jack was gone, and it was a right mess after that. Jack was fighting from one side, and I was fighting from another. It was pretty clear that they had no idea who I was, just that there was _somebody_ there, and it's probably best if it remains that way. I don't have whatever special powers the Boy-Who-Lived must have to have survived so many meetings with Darkness."

Hermione couldn't help thinking that that elusive 'special power' that Jack had was actually Harry Potter.

"At the time, I was so mad at him," he explained. "All he does is drag me into these dangerous battles, and then I'm expected to make sure that he doesn't die." Harry recognised that he couldn't exactly blame Jack for what happened. Nobody could quite figure out the reason behind Harry's spontaneous (dis)appearances, and goodness only knew that his mother and Sirius had tried.

Hermione just watched as he got a faraway look in his eye.

"I remember casting a _Maxima Protego_ to get to where Jack was with Cedric. It was so loud, but so quiet at the same time. Does that make sense? Sirius says that sometimes that can happen in battle. It's so loud that it's quiet." He shrugged. "It was like time slowed. I can't even explain it."

Hermione could tell that he was somewhere else, wrapped up in the memory.

"When I reached him, he was crying. I think I was too. It was the moment I realised that Cedric was actually - uh, dead. I remember Jack saying that he killed him, and that he had to take his body back. We couldn't just leave him.

"But, because I was holding up the Shield, I couldn't make the Portkey. I remember thinking that it'd be fitting that we died together, you know? Some kind of brotherly justice, or whatever; but then I spotted the Cup. It was almost too convenient, and what were the chances... but knowing Tom. I told Jack to Summon it, and he listened." He let out an amused breath. "Death Eaters hurling the worst Curses at us; my Shield dwindling, and the bastard finally listened. It felt like forever but, in reality, it was probably just a few seconds.

"Because, the next thing I knew, we were back here, and Sirius was on top of me. At first, I thought that he was hugging me, but he was actually hiding me. _Protecting_ me. Cedric was dead. Voldemort was back. There was no need to throw the other Potter into the mix.

"But I was in the mix. I _am_. Whatever causes me to go to them the way that I do; there's no saying when it'll happen, or even if there's a way to stop it. Sirius thinks that I should learn Occlumency, but Mum isn't so sure. I think she thinks that it won't work in the way that we want, though she recognises the advantages of it. She has plans for this summer, and so do I. I suspect that it's going to be very informative."

It was a sentence said with hints of excitement and apprehension. Despite the Ministry's continuous denial of the return of Voldemort; the Aurors - courtesy of Amelia Bones - and the Order were gearing up for a War that would inevitably come. They were recruiting more and more with each day, while trying to underhand the growing Dark forces.

Harry was going to make sure that he too was prepared. Now was the time. _Now_.

The four of them sat in silence for a prolonged moment, before Luna broke it, attempting to lighten the mood. "So, Harry, when do you think Sirius is going to propose then?"

The raven-haired wizard let out an unexpected laugh. "I have no idea," he admitted. "I think that, if Padfoot had his way, he'd have proposed like five years ago."

Hermione kept her eyes on Harry, _seeing_ him. She was trying to work out where his story about that night and Jack's story diverged, or converged, and she just couldn't wrap her head around it. Jack's tales didn't mention Harry and, for the first time; Hermione reasoned that that was by design. At whose instruction?

The stories gave Jack all the glory, and hid Harry. But why? Why was it so important that Harry's involvement not be reported? Safety? There was no place safer than Hogwarts, with Dumbledore at the helm. So, what? What was it?

Her musing was interrupted by Neville posing a question to both her and Harry, about Potions. It was the one subject that he was terrified for, and Hermione vowed to help him through. If she couldn't face her own fears; then she'd definitely help someone else to do so.

Harry glanced at her, silently giving her the reigns to handle this one.

"Umm, check in the third line of the second paragraph of that same page, Neville," Hermione said, looking at her own textbook.

"I don't see it," he said.

After a little puff of breath, Hermione rose up and leaned over the table to point at a line in Neville's textbook. "Here, it says that, 'the octopus powder has - " she stopped at the sound of Harry's sudden gasp. "What?"

"What's that?" he asked.

"What's what?"

"That," he said, pointing.

Hermione looked down to where he was pointing, to spy the double pendant of the necklace that Harry gave her for Christmas. It was poking out through the button gap in her school shirt, dangling for all to see. "Oh," she sounded, her fingers absently reaching for it. "I'm pretty sure that you know what this is, Potter."

"I know," he said, clearing his throat. "It's just, uh, you're still wearing it?"

"I've never taken it off."

His eyes widened. "Never?"

"Never."

They just stared at each other for the longest time, the entire great big world falling away as emerald green stayed locked on hazel brown.

Neville was the one to bring them out of their moment. "Umm, hello, earth to Harry and Hermione; Hufflepuff here trying to pass Potions. Please help."

Hermione seemed to snap out of a trance, and returned her focus to Neville, giving him her undivided attention. Harry wasn't able to focus on his work anymore. Not when he knew that she was still wearing the necklace. _His_ necklace. And the fact that she'd worn it even when she must have hated him meant so much to him that he couldn't even explain it.

Luna had to kick him under the table to get him working again, and the little Ravenclaw had to stifle a laugh at the glare he shot her.

It was only later, after Hermione and Neville had left them, that she took to teasing him. "You look lovestruck," she said, giggling softly.

"I am," he admitted. "I'm madly in love with Granger," he said, and Luna's answering smile made him blush. "Maybe so much that she doesn't even have to be in love with me. I love her enough for the both of us. She's mine."

"We always knew that, Harry," Luna said, still beaming. "I think even she knows that."

"It's not over," he said proudly.

"It never was."


	15. Cool For The Summer

**Chapter Fifteen: Cool for the Summer**

"It's not fair."

Harry couldn't help his laugh. "Just accept it, Neville. Gryffindor is the best House."

"I just - no, it's not fair," Neville continued. "I swear Dumbledore is biased. Was he a Gryffindor when he was in school? It's the only explanation."

Harry pat his friend on the shoulder in mock sympathy. "Life must be hard as a Hufflepuff," he said, grinning. "When was the last time you guys won the House Cup?"

Before Neville could reply, Luna cut into their conversation, her voice travelling across the small space of the Hogwarts Express compartment. "Okay, you two can continue this debate later," she said dismissively, before adding: "even though we both know that Ravenclaw trumps all others."

"Hey - " Harry countered, followed closely by Neville's: "No way - "

Luna laughed at the looks on their faces. "We don't have a lot of time before Hermione gets back from the Prefects' meeting."

Harry checked his watch, a small smile automatically spreading across his face. It's what usually happened whenever he so much as thought her name. "Ten minutes maybe."

"She'll have the patrol schedule when she gets back, which we'll - "

"Wait," Harry said, interrupting her. "What makes you think we'll even get to see the schedule?"

"She's going to give it to us."

Harry's mouth dropped open, and Neville actually _gasped_.

"Why would she do that?" Neville asked.

Luna let out a heavy sigh. "Have you two seriously not being paying attention to anything I've just said?"

"Probably," Harry confessed. "Gryffindor _did_ win the House Cup."

"Hermione is _in_." Luna reached into her robes and fished for her notebook. It was a notebook that Harry recognised as the one he'd been carting between the two most important _young_ witches in his life, like a postman. "We've been working on the Charm work together."

"Wait," Neville said. "Are you trying to tell me that Hermione Granger, Prefect and most polite person I've ever met in my entire life, not only _knows_ what we plan on doing, but actually _helped_?"

Luna nodded. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

"Sweet Merlin."

If Harry could have loved her more in that moment, he didn't think it. She was definitely full of surprises.

"Now, please," Luna said; "can we go over it one more time?"

Harry and Neville gave her their undivided attention, all three of them running through the roles they would be playing in exacting a Mosstroopers revenge, with a Granger Twist. Whatever that meant. It would be terrifying and embarrassing for their victims, though not particularly dangerous. Hermione made sure of that, with modified protection charms.

When Hermione did eventually return to the compartment, she immediately handed a piece of parchment to Luna before claiming the seat next to the blonde witch. Almost immediately, Luna got to work, trying to figure out the best time to _attack_.

Hermione waited a full minute before she asked the question of the boys sitting across from her. "Why are you both staring at me?"

"No reason," Harry said, at the same time that Neville said: "What? No - "

Harry and Neville exchanged a look but, wisely, both didn't say a word more. Hermione just gave them both a curious look before she pulled out a novel - an honest to God _novel_ \- and proceeded to read.

Really, Harry could have watched her for ages, but Luna kicked at his shoe, and the three of them were back to their planning. His mother might have called it scheming, but Harry secretly knew that she'd be a little bit proud. She'd been a terrifying mixture of livid and calm when Harry told her what happened.

She'd said things.

Sirius said more things.

And, really, Harry decided in that moment that this entire year was both a success and a failure. Where he was; it didn't feel like anything much had changed, and that was the worst part. This was supposed to be his big year and what progress had he made?

Sure, he was now a Quidditch player on the Cup winning team and, sure, for a while there, he was something of a hero. Jack still hated him, though Harry'd never actually set out to change that, did he?

Despite it all, it all still felt so unimportant because he'd lost Hermione. No. She'd been taken from him. It wasn't lost on him that the probability of their getting back together was high, but it was still a bitter pill to swallow going into the long months of their summer holiday.

"Are you even listening?" Luna questioned.

Harry looked at her. "Always."

She shook her head, her smile giving away her slight amusement. "What am I ever going to do with you?"

"You love me."

She rolled her eyes, before getting them back to the finer details of what was to come.

When it was time, Luna sent Neville to get into position first. A minute later, it was time for Harry and Luna to leave.

"Granger?"

Hermione already knew what was coming, but she wouldn't say so. Plausible deniability and all that.

Today was the day.

They were going home. Well, they were leaving the Hogwarts Castle. Hermione wasn't sure if she'd call the house she lived in with her parents a _home_.

"Granger?" Harry tried again, clearly wanting her to look at him.

With a sigh, she turned her gaze on him, abandoning the text in front of her. " _Okay_ , Harry," she said gently. She didn't think that he was actually asking for her permission, but she knew that there was a part of him that would welcome her verbal blessing. So she gave it. After all, whatever the Mosstroopers were going to do was, in part, because of her. _For_ her. "Go and do what you have to do, Mosstrooper Number One."

He grinned at her. It was one of those grins that made her heart stutter. She had half a mind to pull him into her arms and never let him go, but she quickly shook the thought. It was the problem with Harry Potter, wasn't it? Which wasn't actually a problem at all.

It was just too easy for her to lose herself in him.

"I'll see you later?" he asked, noticing the faraway look in her eyes. His voice revealed his own nervousness, coupled with a bit of fear.

"I promise I won't leave without saying goodbye," she assured him, realising that he needed to hear her say the words.

Luna cleared her throat. "I hope you'll pay us the same courtesy as well," she said teasingly.

Hermione rolled her eyes and made a show of sighing heavily. "If I must."

Luna laughed. "Try as you might, Granger; but you love us."

Hermione's breath hitched in her throat. What? _Love_. Who said anything about that?

Harry noticed the sudden look of panic on Hermione's face, and knew that it'd be wise to get Luna out of there before the brunette witch's brain short-circuited. "Come on, Luna," he said, gesturing with his hand for the two of them to leave. "Neville is waiting for us." He looked at Hermione again. "And plus, we'll probably be back with plenty of time."

"I'll be here," Hermione said.

Luna just looked between the two Gryffindors, before she allowed Harry to lead her out of the compartment.

As soon as they were safely away from Hermione, Harry tugged on her arm to get her attention. "Luna, as much as I appreciate what you're trying to do; I'd would also appreciate it if you didn't freak her out."

The witch just shrugged. "I'm just trying to get her used to the idea of being loved, Harry."

He blinked in confusion.

"It has to be casual at first," she explained, as they dodged a pair of First Years. "You said it yourself. We can't have you overwhelming her with your feelings now."

Harry just shook his head. "We'll talk about this later."

Luna's answering smile was small, but knowing. "Sure we will, Potter."

It didn't take them long to get into their own positions. Harry didn't think that he'd be so annoyed that Jack and Ginny weren't sitting in the same compartment before, but now it made what they were planning a little bit more complicated, but still rather exciting.

Harry and Luna were responsible for getting Jack and Ron into position, while Neville was responsible for Ginny. Luna was the one who made that decision, and neither boy questioned her. They were both willing to let her take charge of this particular mission. Harry thought he understood her anger, but he hadn't actually asked. He suspected that she was also rather irritated with herself, because _she_ hadn't noticed.

So this was her show, and Harry and Neville were her minions.

The setup was simple enough, with the more complicated parts involving actually getting their marks alone. Luna opted for mild compulsion charms because it was easier and less messy. Harry did the Stunning, and Neville did the Sticking, which was actually the most complicated part, seeing as they _were_ on a moving train.

"Upside down?" Neville asked Luna.

"Definitely," she responded, absently handing Harry three pieces of paper.

Harry didn't know what she'd written on them, and he was actually looking forward to learning what they said along with everyone else. Once Neville had their marks in position, Harry positioned the papers right way up, freezing their hands in position.

When he was done, Luna set up the Silencing and Disillusionment Charms. "Those should wear off a few minutes after we arrive at King's Cross," she said, looking rather satisfied. "But they should be awake _long_ before that."

Harry merely nodded, fighting off the bigger part of him that thought this was a little _much_. He had to remember that Hermione approved and, frankly, he wasn't averse to Jack, Ginny and Ron suffering some form of terror. He also reminded himself that they weren't actually in danger. The Sticking Charm was strong and, in the event that it did fail; their were other failsafes in place.

Neville closed the window of the empty compartment they were in. "Come on, we should get out of here," he said. "Don't want to be at the scene of the crime, now do we?"

Luna just grinned. "What crime?"

They shared a laugh as they made the way back to the compartment in which they'd left Hermione. The brunette witch didn't look to have moved at all, and Harry couldn't help his relief. She was still perched on the seat, book in her lap and shoulder leaning against the window.

Hermione raised her eyebrows at their entrance.

Luna merely nodded, and then the four of them settled in to wait out the rest of the trip to London. Harry and Neville ended up playing a game of Exploding Snap, while Hermione continued to read and Luna caught a nap. The blonde witch would be leaving on an expedition with her father as soon as they arrived at King's Cross Station. Suffice to say, Neville had quite a bit to say about that.

"But she needs a holiday," he said softly, his eyes glancing Luna's way, as if she would sense they were talking about her and wake up.

"The expedition is a holiday," Harry said. Somehow, he always ended up playing Devil's Advocate in these situations. It wasn't as if he couldn't see how burnt out his Ravenclaw friend was. They were all exhausted. It had been an exhausting year. "Also, did you stop think that that maybe Xeno is taking her out of the country for a reason?"

Neville looked at Harry. "Are you talking about You-Know-Who?"

Harry nodded. "Tom's forces are growing."

"Did Sirius tell you that?"

"It doesn't take a genius to figure out what he's doing," he said, rather petulantly. "And you know as well as I do that all that Sirius tells me has to go through my mum first." He leaned back, their game abandoned. "He wasn't that strong, from what I remember of the graveyard. His followers looked skeptical at best; even more so because Jack managed to escape. If I were him, I would be trying to grow my forces and prove my power."

"He garners loyalty through fear and money."

Both boys looked at Hermione.

"Sorry," she said, shrugging slightly. "I couldn't resist."

Harry nodded, showing her that he didn't mind that she joined the conversation. "It's true though. He's probably building an army as we speak."

They all fell silent, lost in their own thoughts as the reality of Harry's words set in. Voldemort was preparing, and the Ministry was still vehemently denying his return. They were practically playing into his hands.

"What would he need from the Ministry?" Neville asked after a while. "Remember, Ron's dad was injured at the Ministry."

Harry dropped his gaze for a moment, feeling his own guilt at the incident. Even though he didn't know how he could have possibly explained his dream; he still felt as if he should have done more. "I don't know," he eventually said. "Why does Tom do anything?"

"Power?" Hermione offered. "Maybe he wanted information on something, and it can only be found at the Ministry."

"If that's the case, why didn't he just send someone else? A human being, no less?" He sighed. "Sirius said that the snake that attacked Mr Weasley was Tom's familiar."

"How fitting," Hermione murmured.

"Which just makes me wonder," Harry continued. "Why would Tom risk sending an extension of himself for information that anyone could get?"

Hermione nibbled at her bottom lip, catching onto Harry's thread. "Unless it wasn't information that _anyone_ could get."

"Exactly."

Neville shuddered. "If You-Know-Who ever showed up at the Ministry, I'm convinced that it would crumble. All their denying of his return would make them look like fools."

Harry nodded in agreement. "I do know that they've increased the security presence in the Ministry on Madam Bones' instruction. There's also the Order keeping watch or whatever it is that they do. I'm sure that, if it weren't for Bones and James; Tom might have already tried to get that information again."

"What do you think he's waiting for?" Neville asked.

"For us to be at our weakest, and for them to be at his strongest."

"But how will he know?"

"I'm sure he has spies," Hermione said. "If I were him, I would. With enough money, you can get people to do just about anything. Blackmail too. You've been reading about all these kidnappings in the paper. I don't know how people haven't caught on, really."

Despite the topic of conversation, Harry couldn't stop himself from smiling at Hermione's look of indignation, as if she'd been personally insulted by other people's lack of logic. He always had to remind her that not everyone could be like her.

Truthfully, he didn't blame people for not believing that Voldemort was back. After so many years of relative peace, it wasn't easy to accept that one of the Darkest wizards was suddenly back. Harry didn't know what he would believe if he hadn't seen Voldemort for himself. Would he have believed Jack?

Would he have believed Dumbledore?

When they were ten minutes from their destination, Hermione suggested that they swap their robes for their coats and jackets before they ended up shocking the Muggle world. She was the one to shake Luna awake, and Harry didn't miss the way that Neville's eyes never left the blonde witch's face. They held in them concern and something that looked like admiration.

They got changed in relative silence, Neville's grunts and complaints the only noise in the compartment.

"I think you need a new coat, Nev," Harry said, eyeing his friend struggle to get his second arm through its designated hole.

"I think so too," Neville agreed.

"Do you want me to enlarge it for now?" Hermione offered.

"Please."

Hermione waved her wand, her lips forming around the word: " _Engorgio_ ," and Neville's arm slipped easily into place.

"Thank you," he said.

"It should last about two hours," she told him; "and you're welcome."

When the Express came to a stop, the four of them started on their way out of the compartment. Harry, Neville and Luna had shrunk their trunks and put them in their pockets, to be enlarged by an adult later. Hermione's trunk was also safely in her pocket, to be enlarged with an activation word when she reached her destination.

A destination she didn't really want to talk about to anyone.

The platform was busy, full of students and parents alike greeting one another after the long year. And it _had_ been a long year, full of ups and downs, and even further downs.

"Let's head over there," Neville said, directing them. "It should give us a good view."

There was collective nodding, as the four of them shuffled their way further down the platform, essentially moving into the best position to see their handiwork.

When Harry first spotted James on the platform, he slowed his pace. "You guys go on; I'll catch up."

There were no protests, as his three friends continued on their way, leaving him to his thoughts. The moment he did this, James would know, and so would Jack. It was bound to be a comedic moment, sure, but the aftermath had him feeling a little nervous. He wasn't looking forward to going back to having to look over his shoulder all the time.

But it was going to be worth it, surely.

Harry took a moment to work up whatever it was he needed to step towards his father. He'd rehearsed what he would say, but it was an entirely different experience approaching the man he very rarely _spoke_ to.

"Hey, James," he said, standing up as straight as he could. He wasn't nearly as tall as his father, but Harry was still growing. "You looking for someone?" he asked, his voice steady.

If James was surprised by the approach of his other son, it was clear as day on his face. "Excuse me?"

"Who are you looking for? You looking for Jack?"

James forced a nod, still a little taken aback. When James wasn't avoiding his other son; Harry was avoiding him.

"He's right there," Harry said, pointing over his shoulder at the side of the train.

James looked, only to see nothing. "Where?"

Harry spun on his heel to look as well. "Hmm, I'd give it a minute. You'll see it then." He let out a laugh, before he practically skipped away. He didn't dare look back as he made his way towards his waiting friends, feeling rather proud of himself.

Luna took hold of his arm when he approached. "What did you say to him?"

He shrugged. "Just that he should keep an eye out for his son."

She let out a laugh. "It's going to brilliant, isn't it?"

"Definitely," Neville said.

Collectively, they all turned to look at the point on the train that Harry indicated to James, the four of them just waiting. "Any second now," Luna murmured, absently stepping closer to Harry. "Bet you a Galleon that one of them peed themselves," she whispered.

Despite himself, Harry laughed. "Which one?"

"I want to say Jack, but I'm going to go with Ron."

"Probably."

They shared a laugh, just as it began.

When the Silencing Charm fell, three piercing screams were heard, drawing the attention of all those on the platform. And when the Disillusionment fell, it was priceless. The very sight of them had people in stitches.

Jack, Ginny and Ron were stuck up on the outside of the Hogwarts Express, their robes spread out around them. Together, the three of them were in positions to spell out the letter 'H,' with Ginny forming the middle arm. Jack and Ron were both upside down, their robes falling over their heads and revealing them in their underwear.

Really, Harry wondered why these Purebloods refused to wear suitable clothing under their robes. They were just asking for trouble.

Their arms would have been flailing if their hands weren't held in position to reveal the pages that Luna wrote out, held the right way up for all to see. It was the first time that Harry was seeing them, and he was just as surprised and enthralled as the next person.

He read Jack's first, and almost keeled over from his own laughter.

.

 _I'm obsessed with trying to be better than my half-brother because I know, deep down, that I'll never be as handsome or badass as he is. Harry, please teach me your ways. - The Boy-Who-Tried_

.

Harry looked at Luna. "Do you really think I'm handsome _and_ badass?"

"Actually, _I_ didn't write that one," she said, her eyes flicking towards Hermione. "But I _did_ write Ginny's one."

Harry's eyes drifted towards the middle of the 'H,' lingering over Hermione's smiling face for a moment.

.

 _I don't like not getting what I want, and I will throw a hissy fit when I don't. Watch out, ladies, I steal boyfriends too. Just ask my ex-best-friend. - The Backstabber_

.

"Oh my God," Harry said. "Luna!"

The witch just shrugged. "Tell me she didn't deserve it."

He couldn't. "And Hermione approved it?"

Luna nodded.

Harry leaned into her slightly, and whispered: "Did I mention that I'm in love with her?"

"Once or twice," she replied with a laugh. "We're not done."

And, finally, Harry read Ron's:

.

 _I just do whatever my best friend tells me to, because I'm a sheep and I have no backbone of my own. At least my mum still loves me. - The Brainless Follower_

.

"That's perfect," Harry said, nudging Luna slightly. "Thank you."

"Always."

Harry just smiled as he turned away, digging into the pocket of his jeans. He fished for a Galleon before he handed it to Luna.

"Told you it'd be Ron," she said, grinning at him as she took it.

"Yeah yeah. How do you feel?" he asked.

"I feel great," she said. "This has been a _great_ day, Harry Potter. Don't you forget it."

"I won't."

"We should get going before James figures out how to get them down. We didn't exactly make it _that_ difficult," she added, absently watching as the much older Potter was trying to do just that, his wand out and a flustered look on his face.

Harry nodded, as he started to walk away, his friends following. They disappeared into the crowd and huddled together, waiting for any of their parents to show up.

Almost fittingly, it was Sirius who arrived first. He greeted them all and congratulated them on a master prank, before he was urging Harry to say his goodbyes. Neville and Luna each received hugs from the young Gryffindor, before he pulled Hermione to the side.

Things were still a little up in the air between them, but he suspected that she wanted to use this summer to work through whatever she said that she needed to.

"You'll be okay?" he asked, needing to know.

"Of course," she said.

He nodded, even though he wasn't quite sure that he believed her. "Will you write?" he asked, slightly irritated by how small his voice sounded. There was an irrational part of his mind that was worried that she might _forget_ about him.

She nodded. "I might even call you."

"Ooh," he said; "I feel so special."

"As you should."

He smiled at her. "You have a good summer, all right."

"You too, Harry."

For a moment, he hesitated, contemplating if he _could_. But then she gave him a significant look, practically daring him; and so he pulled her into a long, lingering hug that spoke of a history beyond _friendship_.

Hermione released him first, and allowed herself to kiss his cheek. "Be good."

Harry was blushing. "When am I not?"

"Don't make me tell you twice, Potter."

He grinned at her. "I promise I'll be good."

"Good man."

And then she was walking back to Neville and Luna, leaving him to watch after her. He felt both light and heavy at the same time, as he watched her until she disappeared into a small crowd of people. He couldn't stop himself from thinking that he already missed her. Merlin, he was pathetic.

He was startled out of his musings by the feel of Sirius' hand on his shoulder. "It's good to see the two of you are still talking," he said softly.

"I love her, Sirius."

Admittedly, the older wizard wasn't at all surprised by that. "Girls will ruin us, Harry."

Harry looked up at him. "You're stupidly in love as well, aren't you?"

He nodded. "I even take the trash out the Muggle way now. I'm ruined, I'm telling you."

Harry laughed lightly, before he let out a long sigh. "Can we go home now?"

"Don't you want to get some dinner first?"

"Not really."

Sirius sighed. "Don't tell me that you're going to be this depressed the entire summer now," he said, turning Harry to look at him. "Because you know I won't stand for it. This is supposed to be an exciting time for our family."

 _Our family_. Harry liked the sound of that.

"So, what are the plans for the summer?" Sirius asked, as he started to lead the way through the crowds of King's Cross Station. "Besides pining over our favourite Miss Granger, of course?"

Harry faked a laugh. "I'm ready to get started on our training sessions as soon as possible," he said. "And Mum will probably have me starting on N.E.W.T. work by the end of the week."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "What about a _holiday_?"

"I'm sorry if I don't want to die when Voldemort eventually comes knocking," he said, and Sirius missed a step. If Harry noticed, he didn't acknowledge it. "I have to be prepared, Sirius. You know that as well as I do."

Sirius didn't say anything more. What could he say anyway? There was a new determination in Harry's eyes; something that Sirius hadn't seen before. On instinct, he glanced back over his shoulder, and spotted Hermione Granger, now standing with a tall man in a black suit. A driver, perhaps. What _was_ unsettling was the fact that she was watching _them_ intensely.

Well, watching _Harry_.

Oh.

Sirius recognised the look in Harry's eyes now. He was gearing up for a fight.

Because he had something worth fighting for.

* * *

The first few days of Harry's summer were, somewhat reluctantly, spent resting. Recuperating, as it were. Studying for his O.W.L.s had taken quite a bit out of him, particularly if one added in the DADA tutoring he offered to Neville, Luna and Hermione. His mother insisted, so he complied. Harry Potter was anything if not a good son.

What Harry did do in those first few days was agonise over whether to write to Hermione. And, if he did, what would he even say? _I'm sorry, I love you, Please can we get back together?_

Maybe, _Have you read the new John Grisham?_ That was safe, wasn't it?

In the end, Harry needn't have worried.

He tried desperately not to read into it too much, but Hermione wrote to him _first_. She asked him all sorts of questions, told him very little about where she was or what she was doing, and asked for a suitable time to call. It was a worrying letter, yes, but Harry couldn't help feeling giddy. It meant something, but he wouldn't allow himself to think _what_.

Harry spent an insane amount of time drafting his return letter, answering questions and asking a few of his own. He wanted to know if she was, in fact, with her parents, because she'd been rather elusive with her plans. Without the Burrow as an option anymore, Hermione would be going home. But would she be alone? He hated the idea of her being alone, and he knew that she knew that.

When Sirius did finally start up their tutoring once more, Harry was ready to go. All he'd wanted to do was see out the rest of the year without incident. It sort of happened that way, but he couldn't really claim that the year had gone according to plan. Whatever that meant.

Harry quickly fell into a routine. In the mornings, after having breakfast with his mother, he and Sirius would work on the practical side of magic. After lunch, Harry would work on the theoretical side of magic, learning all he could. Some of it was in preparation for his upcoming N.E.W.T. classes, but the rest was just out of interest and for survival.

His mother wasn't always around in the afternoons but, when she was, he was able to go to her with questions about what he was studying. If she wasn't around, then they spent parts of the evenings after supper to discuss what he's covered during the day. Even though Lily Evans wasn't actively involved in the Wizarding World; she was well-versed in it.

It was a routine that went on for days without anything particularly worth-mentioning happened.

Until _that_ morning.

Harry'd been home for almost three weeks when the _Daily Prophet_ decided to stir things up. He was sitting at the kitchen table with his mother, who was absently reading the freshly-arrived newspaper.

He almost choked on his cereal at the sight of the headline.

.

 _Potters Heading for Divorce?_

 _Rumour has it that there is trouble in paradise, and has been for quite some time. The question is being asked: is Wizarding Britain's It-Couple calling it quits?_

 _James Potter and his wife, Marlene Potter (_ née _McKinnon) were married in December 1981, just months after their son and the Boy-Who-Lived, Jack Potter, defeated Voldemort in their then home in Godric's Hollow. In this time, the couple have become one of Wizarding Britain's po -_

.

That was all Harry caught of the article before Lily slammed the paper down and glared at her son.

"Don't you have anything better to do that pay attention to city gossip?" she asked pointedly, and he shrugged.

"Not really, no," he said, offering her a sheepish smile.

She couldn't help her own smile. "What am I ever going to do with you?"

"Indulge me," he offered.

Lily did. She lifted the paper and started to read out loud. She wasn't able to figure out just what she was feeling about the possibility of the end of James and Marlene's marriage. It just seemed like such a foreign concept to her. For so long, Lily managed to ignore that James was with another woman, and now _this_. For years, someone actually had to put up with the man, and Lily had to admit that she was surprised it took the other woman so long to come to her senses.

"Do you think it's true?" Harry asked, because it seemed so completely out of the blue.

"I wouldn't put it past the Daily Prophet to manufacture something like this to detract from all the mysterious things that have been going on," Lily said. "Remember what I told you, Harry: don't believe everything you read."

"I remember," he said, frowning slightly.

"What?"

"I get it, newspapers lie and all that, but it seems so out of the blue not to have even a bit of truth behind it," he said. "I mean, James was alone when I saw him at King's Cross."

Lily blinked. "You saw him?"

"Talked to him too," Harry said easily, moving to put another mouthful of cereal into his mouth. Because of it, he missed the flash of _something_ cross his mother's face.

"What did he say to you?" she asked, her voice unnaturally steady.

Harry looked at her. "Nothing, really," he said, chewing carefully. "I'm the one who approached him."

Lily's eyes widened.

"Someone had to tell him where to find his son, and I'm anything if not good-mannered."

Lily didn't respond because she wasn't sure what to say. Her son had never been so blasé about talking to his father before, and she wasn't sure how to feel about it. Was he old enough now? Could she tell him about all that happened before that fateful Hallowe'en?

Harry finished up with his cereal quickly, before he lifted his bowl up to his mouth and drank the leftover milk. He knew his mother hated it when he did that, and it was a surprise to him when she didn't even raise her eyebrows in admonishment.

"Mum?" he asked, setting down his bowl. "Is everything okay?"

Before Lily could respond, Sirius entered the kitchen, grinning madly. "So she's finally kicking him to the curb, huh?"

"Sirius!" Lily _did_ admonish _him_ , at the same time that Harry laughed.

The older wizard ignored her. "Did I call it or what?"

Lily huffed.

"Though, to be honest, I thought she'd leave him much earlier than this. Like, _years_ earlier."

Lily gave up trying to be indignant rather quickly. "She was probably waiting for Olivia to start at Hogwarts," she said conversationally. "With the kids both gone; she'd be the only one to put up with him, and the mere thought of that must have sent her straight to the lawyers."

Harry looked thoughtful. "I didn't know that witches and wizards _could_ get divorced?"

"It isn't common," Lily told him; "but it does happen."

"What about all the whole 'bonded for life' spiel?" he asked.

"We're only human, Harry. Sometimes couples just don't work out. It's part of life."

"You just have to find the right person then," he offered, and Lily nodded. "So when are the two of you getting married then?"

Lily choked on the air caught in her throat, at the same time that Sirius coughed violently.

Harry just looked at them, deathly amused. "I'm sorry, what was that? Didn't quite catch it."

Sirius managed to recover first. "Come on, I think someone needs some Stunners to dodge."

Harry just laughed as he rose to his feet. "I'm saying it now, so you both know: I expect to be best man."

* * *

"Letter for you," Lily said, handing Harry an envelope from the stack of mail in her hand. "Smells girly."

Harry practically snatched it from her hand. "Thank you," he rushed, before ripping at the envelope, unfolding the letter and starting to read. He skimmed over Hermione's words quickly, wanting to get the gist of the letter before he gave it a thorough read-through. He just needed to know that she was okay.

"Oh," he eventually said, when he was done.

Lily raised her eyebrows, regarding her son from across the kitchen table as they sat for breakfast. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," he replied absently, refolding the letter and placing it in its torn envelope.

"Harry?" Lily questioned, suddenly concerned. "Is Hermione all right?"

"She's fine," he said, pocketing the letter. "She's going to New York."

"Oh?"

Harry nodded. "Leaves on the twenty-seventh of July."

Lily sighed. "Oh."

Harry worried his bottom lip. "We were going to go for lunch for my birthday, you know. The four of us, I mean. I was looking forward to seeing her, and - " He let out a long breath. "It's okay. I'll see her when she gets back."

"Yes you will."

He gave her a small smile. "Thanks, Mum."

She didn't get to respond because, suddenly, Sirius was upon them. He liked to make an entrance in the mornings, because he was, more often than not, the last one to finish getting ready. Something about looking that pretty taking time.

The older wizard didn't sit down. He also wasn't much of a breakfast-eater, and Lily had almost given up on trying to change that about him.

"Ready to go?" Sirius asked Harry.

Harry nodded, before he shot to his feet. "I just need to grab my coat."

"We'll have to stop by HQ before we go," he told Harry. "I have to pick up some things that we need."

Harry wasn't usually invited to go to the Order's Headquarters, and he couldn't keep the excited grin off of his face. "I'll be right back," he said, before he was racing up the stairs.

Lily looked up from the newspaper. "Where are you two off to?"

"Longbottom Manor," Sirius answered easily.

"Why are you taking him?"

"It's an official visit."

Lily raised her eyebrows. "It is?"

Sirius moved to sit down next to her. "I thought that he would have told you by now," he said, frowning slightly. "We're scheduled to visit Madam Longbottom, and then Xeno in the afternoon. Harry wants to offer them House Black's alliance and protection."

She just nodded in understanding. "It's as if he knows that something is coming," she said, her gaze meeting his. "Is it possible that he does?"

Sirius leaned back, his voice dropping. "Are you referring to this connection he seems to have with Jack, or Voldemort, or even both?"

"When he was home over Easter, he mentioned that he was getting a growing sense that something was coming," she said. "He wouldn't go into the details of how he knew; just that he did."

He read her tone of voice for what it was. "You want to tell him, don't you?"

Lily nodded once. "I do."

"Then we'll tell him," he agreed. "When?"

"I was thinking after his birthday," she said. "If he reacts badly, I don't want to ruin it for him."

They fell into silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts until Harry returned, an easy smile on his face. He was going to see his best friends. He didn't have to worry about anything else right now.

"I'm ready," he said, and Lily couldn't help thinking that he looked _so young_. His hair was more messy than usual, clearly indicative of the summer. His glasses were sitting a little skew, and his eyes were wide and full of mirth. Really, he looked so much like a young James Potter that Lily had to look away for a moment.

"That's my cue," Sirius said, getting to his feet. He dropped a kiss onto the top of Lily's head, before he headed out of the kitchen.

Harry waited a moment, taking a cautious step towards his mother. "Will you be home later?" he asked.

"I have a lunch meeting, but I'll probably be home when you get back."

He smiled at her.

"Do I get a kiss from you as well?"

"Mum," he grumbled.

She bat her eyelashes. " _Please_."

He huffed, before he moved towards her and bent to place a gentle kiss against her cheek. "See you later, Mum," he said, before he too left the kitchen and found Sirius in the front foyer. "Are we Apparating?"

"Sure. Why not?"

As a result, the two of them found themselves heading up the steps in the Order of the Phoenix's Headquarters in next to no time at all. Harry wasn't particularly a fan of No. 12 Grimmauld Place, but he'd wanted to be involved for quite some time now. It was difficult for him to accept the role that the child that he was, was supposed to play.

"Don't start any fires now," Sirius said once they stepped through the door and into the dark foyer; "I'll be right back."

Harry immediately felt cold, as he watched Sirius disappear into the house. The house _felt_ cold. It was also surprisingly quiet. Okay, not _that_ surprising, given that it was a Wednesday, and it was likely that many of the members were at their various jobs or daily commitments.

Almost afraid to make too much noise, Harry started to walk. He headed to what he knew was the library, his mind automatically thinking about Hermione. Of course. When wouldn't he associate her with libraries?

It would have been unlikely for the library to be empty; Harry knew that, but it was still surprising to find who he did, his form lounging on a couch with an open book in his lap.

Harry stopped short at the sight of Jack Potter.

It took a moment for the older brother to notice Harry and, when he did, the look on his face was comical at best.

"Wha - " Jack started, incoherently.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, absorbing his own shock, and just rolling with it.

Jack frowned. "What are _you_ doing here?" he countered.

"Waiting for Sirius," he said. "You?"

"I kind of live here right now."

It was Harry's turn to frown.

"It's glamorous, isn't it?"

Harry shrugged. "Kind of morbid, if you ask me. Haven't you people ever heard of _colour_?"

Jack let out an unexpected laugh that caught them both by surprise. He quickly clamped it down, schooling his face into something passive. He didn't know how he felt about seeing Harry so unexpectedly. Really, he'd spent a few nights coming up with ways to get his brother back, but it all felt so pointless now. Harry definitely picked the right time to retaliate.

"There's one good thing about this whole situation though," Jack said thoughtfully.

"And what's that?"

"James isn't allowed in," he said, risking a grin. "He usually isn't when Sirius is here but, well, seeing as my mum is here as well; he hasn't been allowed into Headquarters since I got back for the summer."

Harry absently wondered why Jack was telling him any of this. They'd never actually _talked_ before. And especially after the whole train thing; he expected to have Curses flung his way. Maybe Jack didn't have his wand with him, and was just buying time. Who knew?

"Is it that bad?" Harry found himself asking.

Jack's eyes narrowed for a moment. "Do you even care?"

Harry shrugged. He didn't know if he did or not.

"Because I wouldn't, if I were you."

"Well, it's a good thing that you're not me then, isn't it?"

Jack's sigh seemed to deflate his entire body. "It's been a nightmare," he admitted. "She's miserable and he's a git. Olivia and I are just in the middle, and I just can't wait for the divorce to be final."

So it _was_ true. "What happens then?"

It was his turn to shrug. "In my dreams, I never have to see James again."

Harry frowned.

"Oh," Jack said, sounding sarcastic. "Didn't you know?"

"Know what?"

"You've always been so choked up about how James left you and your mum, but you don't know how lucky you are," he said. "You have no idea."

Harry liked to think that he had some idea, but he couldn't _really_ know, could he?

Jack just stared at him, waiting. "It's funny, isn't it? You're the one without the money, without the fame and without the father; but you've had the better life. You've always had the better life, and you didn't even know it." He shook his head. "You wanted my life; for all means, take it."

Harry shook his head. "I don't want your life, Jack," he said.

"Then what do you want?"

"Nothing," Harry replied with a shrug. "I'm just waiting for Sirius. He's taking me to visit Neville."

"Can't go by yourself, can you?"

Harry blinked. There really was so much anger inside of Jack, and he wondered if he'd inherited it from James. Maybe now that James was barred; Jack could work through it or whatever it is he needed to do to stop being such a giant asshole.

"Actually," Harry said; "Sirius is paying an official visit to Madam Longbottom."

That definitely piqued Jack's interest. "Why?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Harry countered.

Jack's eyes narrowed.

Harry returned his glare.

For a moment, Jack felt slightly intimidated. It was strange. There was just something different about Harry; something more focused, determined, and it threw Jack. "What happened to you?"

"What?"

"You're different."

Harry almost laughed. "Seriously? How can you even ask me that?"

Jack just stared.

"I mean, what do you _think_ happened to me?"

Jack just frowned.

" _You_ happened to me, Jack Potter. You and your father and all your hatred."

Jack said nothing, and he wouldn't get the chance to respond because Sirius suddenly entered the room.

"Drop your wands," Sirius said, sounding amused. "Oh wow, you're not trying to kill each other. This is a first. What did I miss?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "We were just discussing how I could probably kick the shit out of him if I tried," he told the older wizard.

Jack looked equal parts stunned and baffled, and Sirius looked deathly amused.

Something _was_ different about Harry, but Jack just couldn't figure it out, and it bothered him. Deeply.

"Are you ready to go?" Harry asked Sirius.

Sirius looked between the two boys, before he nodded. "Sure. We've got an appointment to keep."

Harry looked at Jack for a moment, his half-brother suddenly looking years younger. He shook his head. Jack wasn't his problem. He could take care of himself. He was the Boy-Who-Lived after all, wasn't he?

"What were you and Jack really talking about?" Sirius asked, as they left the room and headed towards the front door.

"James is awful, isn't he?"

Sirius didn't immediately respond, though he could have gone into an entire tirade about how right Harry was. "Why do you say that?"

"He _made_ Jack, didn't he?

"But he didn't make you?" Sirius asked, his eyebrows rising.

Harry shook his head. "He's just a sperm donor, Sirius," Harry said. "You and Mum made me."

Sirius just watched him head out of the house, his steps easy and surprisingly carefree. He'd been hesitant about agreeing with Lily that it was time to tell Harry. But now he was sure.

The boy deserved to know.

All of it.


	16. How Come You Don't Want Me

**Chapter Sixteen: How Come You Don't Want Me**

Harry's birthday came and went with little fanfare. With Hermione in New York for the latter half of the summer, he had a birthday lunch with only Neville and Luna, before his parents were scheduled to take him out for dinner on the town.

He'd balked at his absent referral to his mum and Sirius as his parents, but Hermione assured him that they were, in all intents and purposes, his parents when she called to wish him a happy birthday all the way from the Big Apple.

 _His parents_.

Sirius hadn't lied when he said that he wanted them to focus on being a family, and Harry could _feel_ it. It was in the daily family dinners, ease of conversation and willingness to participate. There was a subtle change to how it was before, though Harry studiously ignored the number of times his mum and Sirius reached out to touch each other; as if they each needed the assurance that the other was still there.

"Did you get your O.W.L. results?" Hermione asked him after they'd run through all the necessary formalities, her voice crackling through the phone connection.

"That isn't all I got," he informed her, knowing his crypticness would annoy her. Even halfway across the world, she didn't disappoint.

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean, Harry Potter?"

He didn't want to risk her wrath, so he answered quickly. "McGonagall made me Quidditch captain."

"What!"

He was forced to pull the phone away from his ear. "Merlin, Granger, warn a bloke before you blow his ear drum."

"Sorry," she said softly. "I just - _Harry_."

He let out a laugh. "Well, okay, she made me _co-_ captain."

"Co-captain," she echoed. "As in there are two of you."

"As in there are two of us," he repeated. "Both Potters, in fact."

It was her turn to laugh, maybe from disbelief. This _was_ really funny. "Oh wow. That's definitely going to go down well, isn't it?"

"I suspect that James is throwing a fit right now," he said, sounding deathly amused.

If Hermione noticed that Harry didn't mention Jack, she didn't comment. "Well, it's about time he realised that Jack isn't the only one."

Harry couldn't stop his grin from spreading across his face. That _was_ his initial plan, wasn't it? He went on to ask her about New York, and she gushed about the different sites she'd visited and the shops she'd supposedly emptied, even claiming that she managed to get him an even better birthday present than she'd initially planned.

"I'm going to give it to you myself, when I see you," she told him.

"Which will be when exactly?"

"Soon, I hope," she said, and he could hear the longing in her voice. Wherever she was; whoever she was with; she wasn't enjoying herself nearly as much as she was making it seem.

Merlin, he missed her something fierce, and he just didn't know what to say or do to make her feel better.

"So, those O.W.L.s you want to tell me about so badly?" he questioned, bringing them back to a safe topic of discussion. He didn't want her to hurt any more than she already was, even though she hadn't explicitly come out and said that she was.

"Ten," she told him. "You?"

He smiled knowingly. Of course she'd get a full house. "Uh, nine."

"That's brilliant, Harry."

"Says the girl who got ten O.W.L.s," he said, laughing lightly. "I bet they're all Outstandings as well."

She let out a sigh. "Actually, I got an Exceeds Expectations for DADA," she said, sounding disappointed.

"I'm sorry," he said, and he meant it. She prided herself on her excellence in the classroom, and he was sure that this one hurt. "I'm sure that, if we start your practical tutoring early next year, you'll definitely get your Outstanding for N.E.W.T.s."

"I assume you've started preparations then?"

"Sort of," he admitted. "I have to, if I'm going to give you a run for your money."

"If you say so."

He laughed. "Just you watch, Granger; just you watch."

She waited a beat. "Are we assuming that Devil incarnation herself, Umbridge, will be back as well?"

Harry groaned. "Merlin, I hope not," he said. "Sirius mentioned something about Minister Fudge calling her back to the Ministry, because there's been a lot of strife about the Voldemort rumours and suspicious disappearances, I guess. People are asking questions, and he's definitely feeling the pressure."

"I have half a mind to go to MACUSA, and ask them what they think about everything that may or may not be happening in Britain right now."

"I'm surprised you haven't just gone looking for it, just for interest's sake," he pointed out.

She sighed. "I don't know - I guess that I'm kind of enjoying acting the Muggle, you know? There's no school drama, and I don't have to worry about mini Death Eaters plotting my death."

There was something to be heard in her voice, but he didn't know if he could talk to her about it. They weren't _together_ , as much as he wanted them to be.

"I get that," he said; "though, I call them Death Nibblers."

She let out a laugh that made his heart skip a beat. Even halfway across the world; the girl still brought him to his knees. He laughed with her, his attention flicking to where his mother appeared at the top of the stairs. She was wearing a long red dress, clearly ready for their evening out. "Hey, Granger."

"Hmm?"

"I'm going to have to run," he said, hating to say the words. He would like nothing more than being able to talk to her for the rest of his life. "I've still got to get ready for dinner."

"Oh okay," she said happily. "Enjoy your evening, Potter, and please say hi to your mum and Sirius for me."

"I will."

"Happy birthday, Harry."

He waited a beat, contemplating whether he could tell her that he missed her. In the end, he didn't. "Thank you, Granger."

They both waited another moment in abject silent, each of them listening to the other's breathing. Eventually, Hermione did hang up, and Harry was left feeling oddly hollow. It was the same feeling he'd had over Christmas Break when he'd learned that she was having such a miserable time in Austria. Sure, he complained about James, but at least he had his Mum. And Sirius.

His _parents_.

He couldn't imagine being with parents who didn't even _see_ him. These were people who were supposed to love her, and they made her feel as if she were invisible. That wasn't okay, and he was at a loss as to how to help. Particularly when he was across an entire ocean. Eventually, he shook the thoughts from his mind. There was nothing he could do now.

So he would just enjoy his night.

And so he did.

Really, turning sixteen didn't bring about any obvious changes to Harry. Well, none that he could actually _feel_. It was just a day, which, more often than not, fell into the shadows of the major celebration that was usually the Boy-Who-Lived's birthday. Most years, Jack held a massive bash at Potter Manor, but it was different this year. It was radio silent from the Potters, as was expected when there was supposedly a nasty divorce going on.

Harry didn't know for a fact that it _was_ nasty, but he assumed it was, if James had anything to do with it.

In the end, dinner was great. It might have been weird, just him, his Mum and Sirius, but it was one of his favourite birthdays to date. He loved the fact that they weren't afraid to be the couple that they now were in front of him. He could practically feel the love, and it made him miss Hermione that bit more. Despite that, though, he made a vow to enjoy his evening, and enjoy he did.

He was on such a high, really, that it took Lily and Sirius a few days to figure out how to approach Harry to tell him about the time _before_. In the end, Sirius decided that there was no easy to say what they needed to say. He had to know that there were circumstances beyond his or their control that had them end up where they currently were.

So it was a Tuesday in August that Harry Potter learnt something he would likely never forget.

"Sweetheart?"

Harry glanced about the living room. Nothing about it looked different, but there was definitely something in the air. "What's going on?" Harry asked. "Why are the two of you sitting in the dark like this?"

Lily took a deep, calming breath. "Come sit with us a while," she said. "There's something we'd like to tell you."

Almost immediately, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. "What's this about?" he asked cautiously.

"Just come sit," Lily instructed, and Harry obeyed, sinking down into an armchair and turning nervous eyes on the pair of them. "You're not in trouble," Lily told him, noting the flash of fear in his eyes. "Nobody's hurt either. There hasn't been another attack."

Harry visibly relaxed. As long as nobody was hurt; how bad could this be? "Then what's up?"

Lily and Sirius exchanged a look, before Lily leaned forward. "We'd like to talk to you about what happened when you were younger," she said. "Particularly before that night in Godric's Hollow."

Harry blinked innocently. "Oh." He shifted in his seat, trying and failing to get comfortable. He couldn't help thinking, _why now?_

"There are things that we've never told you," Lily said. "By design, of course, and by instruction. But we believe that you're old enough to know the truth of why that night in Godric's Hollow actually happened." Lily glanced at Sirius, who nodded in encouragement. "Sixteen years ago, a prophecy was revealed to Albus Dumbledore," she began; "a prophecy that started _everything_."

Sirius started to fiddle with something on the coffee table, but Harry kept his eyes on his mother.

"The prophecy referred to a boy who was to be born at the end of July in 1980, who held the power to defeat Voldemort."

Despite himself, Harry's eyes bulged. "What?"

Lily looked at Sirius, giving him a sign with her eyes.

Sirius cleared his throat, and started to read aloud from a piece of parchment, even though he knew the words by heart. "The prophecy stated: _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives..."_

Harry frowned. That definitely didn't mean what he thought it did.

Lily continued, realising that she would have to explain it fully. "At the time, when Dumbledore presented it to us, we were able to deduce a few things. The subject of the prophecy was indeed male, born at the tail end of July of 1980 to parents who had defied Voldemort on three separate occasions and were still alive. He would have a power that Voldemort would not understand." She took a breath. " _And_ , if there was more than one boy who fit this description, it would be Voldemort who chose who would ultimately be his foe."

Harry took a moment to register what that truly meant, and his eyes went wide. "You mean - ?"

Lily took in a deep breath and released it slowly. "There were three boys who fit the prophecy," she said. "You, Jack and Neville."

Harry's mouth opened, and then closed. Wait. What?

"As you can imagine, when we learned of the prophecy, we had decisions to make. Especially when we found out that Voldemort was aware of the prophecy as well." At this, Sirius and Lily exchanged a significant look. No. They would not tell Harry just who was responsible for that revelation. "We went into hiding, of course." She shook her head. "Well, _you_ went into hiding."

Harry hadn't stopped frowning once.

"Your father took you, and then you, Jack, Marlene and James all went into hiding behind a Fidelius Charm."

Harry blinked in confusion. "But what about you?"

"I was here," she explained steadily, her voice unwavering. "You were safer with him, and he wanted you - "

Harry coughed, surprise and _something else_ making him choke on air. "He wa - he _wanted_ me?" he asked, his voice so small that Lily barely heard him.

"Of course, Harry," she said, slightly concerned by his reaction. "He wanted you with him," she said. "We worked something out, for your sake, and then you went into hiding, and I didn't see you for a few weeks." She swallowed her slight guilt.

She'd rather him believe that she'd willingly sent him away, rather than tell him that James didn't really give her much of a choice in the matter, being the primary parent and all. She hadn't even been allowed to visit. The boys' safety was the most important at the time, and she hadn't put up _that much_ of a fight. It would have crushed her if her own selfishness led to her son being discovered.

Well, in the end, it didn't even matter.

Lily cleared her throat. She couldn't really figure out what her son was thinking, but she had no choice but to push through. She decided to tell him the truth, and they would just have to deal with what came afterwards.

"At the time, I was under the impression that Sirius was the Secret Keeper," she told Harry. "After everything that happened with, uh, Marlene; James and Sirius weren't exactly on speaking terms."

Sirius scoffed at that, but said nothing.

"Sirius is the only one I trusted, but - " she paused. "Well, James didn't trust him, so the Secret Keeper became Peter."

Harry knew that much. Peter Pettigrew - or Wormtail - was a rat on the run after he was discovered to be the Boy-Who-Lived's best friend's pet rat. Really, Harry didn't know why Peter hadn't taken human form and finished off his Master's job whenever he was left alone with Jack. It wasn't that he wished harm on his brother - well, the significant kind, at least - but it just didn't make sense to him, until Sirius spoke.

"Peter was a coward," Sirius said, and that was all Harry needed. Peter Pettigrew was a coward. "A filthy, back-stabbing, mother-fu - "

"Sirius," Lily said, and Harry couldn't stifle his giggle. He'd just been told a whole host of things, but it didn't seem that any of it was really hitting him. It was as if his mother was just telling him a story about a boy who wasn't him, until his mother spoke again. "So, well, Voldemort was actively searching for you."

Harry jerked back slightly. "For _me_?"

Lily nodded. "From what we learned after the fact; he reasoned that you would be the easiest and most dispensable, given that you are a Halfblood," she explained. "Both Neville and Jack are Purebloods. He believed that it would be a waste of untainted blood."

Harry just stared at her. It was one thing for him to be part of some archaic prophecy, but an entirely different thing to be the subject _chosen_ by Voldemort himself. Harry liked to think that he remained under the radar when it came to Voldemort - his mother made sure of it - so it was unsettling to know that Voldemort had once come after him, intending to kill _him_ , and not Jack.

"With Peter's help, Voldemort was able to find you," Lily said, her voice shaky. She didn't like to think about the night that she almost lost all that was dear to her. Sirius included. Because, really, if anything had happened to her son - besides the magical exhaustion he supposedly suffered - she never would have forgiven him.

To this day, she still harboured the feeling that he should have done _more_ to be the Secret Keeper. Then none of this would have happened. Her son wouldn't have been found, and the attack wouldn't have resulted in Harry thinking that his father never wanted him.

"Voldemort himself?" Harry asked quietly.

Lily nodded. "I only know what I've been told, Harry, from Marlene, and even a bit from James." It still made her feel dirty, just saying his name. So many years later, and the events of that night - no, the _entire_ few years - still burned her. "Voldemort turned up at Godric's Hollow on Hallowe'en night in 1981. My understanding is that he went alone, as only he could put an end to the prophecy as it was."

"By killing me?"

Lily could only nod. "He entered our - their - umm - " She stopped to take a breath, prompting Sirius into action. He reached for her hand, squeezed it in encouragement, and she was able to continue: "He entered _the_ home, only one thing on his mind."

 _Killing me_ , Harry thought.

"He attacked James first because he was downstairs," Lily explained. "Marlene next. He didn't want any adult intervention, but he also didn't want to waste any pure blood if he didn't have to." She shuddered involuntarily at the very truth that, if she'd been there, she wouldn't have survived the night. "What happened after that; Voldemort only knows. Albus has a theory though; the one that the entire Wizarding World has believed, merely because of his say-so," she said, rolling her eyes the only way that Lily Evans could. "He took into consideration the angle of the cot you were both in; the way you were positioned; the fact that you were _asleep_ , and decided that Jack must have survived somehow. Protecting you."

Harry blinked. _Protecting him_? It was too much to take in. His father wanted him, and his brother protected him. They were both such foreign concepts to Harry that all he could do was just sit and stare, trying to make sense of it all.

Lily huffed. "I suppose that was the moment that the Wizarding World made a decision," she said. "There had been a lot of talk when they found out that James Potter had fathered two sons from two different women but, after that night, they seemed to forget that Jack was not the only one. Albus was concerned that backlash from the attack had rendered you a squib, Harry. He believed that, perhaps, in order to protect you, Jack had essentially _borrowed_ your magic, and you were unable to replenish it."

Harry had to admit that he was a little bit confused. They were clearly telling him all of this for a reason, and he didn't know what that was. He was also too afraid to ask.

"As you can imagine," Lily said; "there are parts of that theory that are plain stupid."

Harry glanced at Sirius, and they exchanged a significant look. Lily definitely wasn't happy with the role Albus Dumbledore played in relegating her son to the forgotten place in which he'd found himself for so many years.

"Obviously you're not a squib. You're one of the most powerful wizards your age." She huffed again, before she forced herself to take a deep, calming breath. "Which is why we've been conducting our own research."

Harry raised his eyebrows. Oh.

Sirius spoke up then. "There are still a lot of things that we don't know, and just can't understand. Remus has been travelling, meeting with scholars all around the world, and we still... well, we don't have much."

Oh, so that was where Remus Lupin was. Harry'd been almost too afraid to ask. Apparently, there were a lot of things he wasn't sure he wanted to know. "Are you referring to my strange link to Jack?" he asked.

"Or to Voldemort," Sirius offered, and that gave Harry pause. Sure, he'd toyed with the idea that his link was in fact connected to Voldemort, but that was impossible, right? He had nothing to do with Voldemort. He was linked to Jack, and only Jack.

But the nightmares.

 _The nightmares_.

Were those Jack's? And, if they weren't, whose were they? Would he have to ask Jack if he got them too? Did Jack's scar - which was more like a burn - hurt him sometimes? Were these things that the adults discussed, as they tried to figure things out? All the questions were starting to give him a headache.

"We've been focused on figuring out this link, because the implications would be immense," Lily said, but Harry could hear something in her voice.

"Do you think that I could _help_?" he asked, and was met with silence. "No," he said, answering his own question. "You think that this link could hurt me, don't you?"

"We don't understand it, Harry," she said. "Until then, anything is expected to happen."

He shook his head. What were they trying to tell him, but also not at the same time? "Does Jack know any of this?" he asked.

"I don't believe that he does," Sirius said.

"For the same reasons that _I_ wasn't told until now?" Harry asked. There was no obvious anger in his tone, but there _was_ something there: hurt, confusion, frustration, maybe even some irritation and apprehension. Lily suspected that there would be more to deal with once he fully wrapped his head around what he was being told.

"We love you," Lily said. "We made a decision to wait to tell you, because we _cared more for your happiness than your knowing the truth_ about the reasons for that night, _more for your peace of mind_. There has always been plans for when he did return, as Albus feared that he would; but they were dependent on a cooperating Ministry. Things are different now. When you are old enough - "

"I am - "

Lily raised her hand to quiet him. "When _I_ believe you are old enough, I will ask you if you want to join the resistance - "

"I do - "

She shook her head. "Listen to me, Harry," she said carefully. "None of this is fun and games. This is dangerous. It is War. There are people out there who want to kill us. They want to kill _you_ , and that isn't something to be taken lightly." She needed him to know. He had to know that, at the first sniff of extreme danger, she would probably whisk him away and hide him behind another Fidelius Charm. She would do it in a heartbeat. She would do anything to protect him.

She'd even given him up.

"I expect you to focus on your studies," Lily said. "Despite everything that's going on, your education is paramount. Am I understood?"

Harry nodded.

"Slowly, we'll involve you more," she continued. "There are still some things that you will not be told, but I expect you to respect the boundaries that _I_ set. You may be sixteen now, but you're still my teenage son, and that means that nothing changes when it comes to my word."

He nodded again.

Lily sighed. "I just want you to be prepared, Harry," she said. "You said it yourself; something is coming, and I need you to stay safe, which means that you have to be prepared. I won't lose you, do you hear me?"

There was a certain desperation in her voice that made him uncomfortable. He still felt as if she was trying to tell him something without actually telling him; like she wanted him to figure it out for himself.

"Say something," Lily said.

Harry was silent for another few moments, before he finally spoke. "Okay," he agreed, almost automatically. Then: "James really wanted me?"

Out of everything that'd been said, it should have been a sign of some sort to Lily that that was the part on which the boy was stuck. For so long, he'd believed that his father had hated him from the very beginning; just for being born. But.

 _But_.

"Harry?" Lily questioned, and she was met with silence. "Harry?"

"He actually _wanted_ me?"

She nodded. It was important that he know that James hadn't _always_ been the man that he now was. She'd fallen in love with a caring _boy_ , who was still trying to figure himself out, she supposed. She was blinded by that love, and by a pregnancy that was equal parts exciting and terrifying. She liked to think that circumstances led him to Marlene, rather than something that she did, because the alternative was still heartbreaking, all these years later. In the beginning, it wasn't Harry he didn't want; it was _her_. But things were different now.

James made a choice back in 1980, and all of them were forced to deal with it. She sometimes wondered if he regretted it, and maybe that's why he was so angry all the time. Maybe he looked at Harry, and then looked at Jack, and wondered if he'd picked right.

Lily shuddered to think about what their lives would be like _if_ James had decided to pick differently. She couldn't say whether she would have forgiven him, but their lives definitely would have been different.

But then again, even if he _had_ chosen them; Albus' proclamations on that Hallowe'en night might have set them back on this path once more.

"It was your love?" Harry suddenly said, or asked.

"Hmm?"

"That kept you from telling me before today?"

All Lily could do was nod, because she didn't understand where this was going.

"Love," he repeated. "It's the one thing that Voldemort doesn't have. He believes that we're weak and foolish to feel it."

Lily and Sirius exchanged a look. Where had Harry learned that little piece of insight? In the Chamber? The graveyard?

"But he's wrong," Harry said quietly, somewhat profoundly. "Love is more powerful than anything he's ever known, and it will ultimately be his downfall."

His words were so much like Dumbledore's that, if asked, Lily wouldn't be able to say which wizard said them. She wondered if Dumbledore had ever actually spoken to Harry about his theories, but she reasoned that Dumbledore still believed that Jack was the one to save them all.

Lily Evans wasn't so sure.

And, if she was being honest with herself, she'd never been.

* * *

Come September first, Harry Potter was literally bouncing in the backseat of Sirius' car. It'd been a long summer of not seeing Hermione, and he honestly couldn't wait to set his eyes on her. He wasn't even ashamed of how much he'd missed her. Merlin, he _missed_ her.

Sirius and Lily kept exchanging amused looks in the front seats. Sirius could remember when he was a sixteen-year-old boy who was hopelessly in love, so he shouldn't have found it funny, but he did. Had he also been that hopeless? It was equal parts cute and pathetic.

Also, it seemed that both adults were relieved that their talk after his birthday didn't seem to have affected him too much. Lily's intention was never to make James look better or worse in Harry's eyes; it was just to make him look human. He was a man who'd tried and failed. Sure, he'd betrayed Lily, but it wasn't until he had his back against a wall - choosing between the Boy-Who-Lived or both boys - that he started to become the man he was today. Maybe he'd sensed obligation, fame, opportunity, just _something_ ; because then he'd made a decision that was life-defining.

When Sirius finally parked in front of the Station, Harry practically sprinted out of the car, taking it for granted that his mother and Sirius would follow.

Which they did. Initially, Lily didn't want to accompany her boys to the Station, but she'd missed out on so much already. Sirius was also willing to use it as an opportunity to let the Wizarding World know that he was finally - he hoped, at least - and officially off the market. Which was why, when he held out his hand, Lily took it, and she did not let go.

Harry had eyes for only one person once he was inside. Even after the summer, it was as if he was still clued in to her in such a way that, even in the crowd, he found her easily. She was standing with a man in a suit. A driver, he guessed. He wasn't even surprised by that.

Hermione spotted him a beat later and, without giving it much more thought; she was running towards him. It'd been a _long_ summer, which was why, when she reached him, she threw her arms around him and squeezed him tight enough to hurt.

Harry hugged her back just as fiercely, before they simultaneously released each other as if they were just remembering who, where and _how_ they were.

"I missed you," she said, seemingly unafraid to voice that truth. Baby steps or something.

"I can see that," he said teasingly.

She smiled widely at him. "How can you tell?"

He eyed her, his eyebrows rising. "I'm assuming that your time with your parents wasn't all that great?"

She couldn't resist rolling her eyes. "What time with my parents?" she asked sarcastically. "They worked the entire time I was home, and then I literally spent the time in New York alone."

Harry bristled. He was sorely tempted to go straight to her parents and give them a piece of his mind. But, of course, they hadn't bothered to bring her to the Station themselves. "It's okay," he said instead. "I'm here now."

And he was.

Hermione took a small step away from him, as if she were just remembering why they'd spent the summer apart. Because they were. _Apart_. For reasons that she couldn't find all that important in this moment. She'd missed him _so much_ , that it'd actually hurt.

"Come on," he said, glancing over her shoulder at the driver-man watching them. "Let's find Luna and Neville."

Really, it was much too easy to locate them, given the ghastly colours that Mr Lovegood was wearing. Madam Longbottom, Neville and both Lily and Sirius were standing with Luna and Mr Lovegood. They were an odd bunch, all different heights, clothing and hair colour; but Harry couldn't mistake the sudden rush of warmth he felt at the sight of them.

They felt like family.

He risked a look at Hermione. "I know sometimes you feel alone," he said softly; "but you're not. Not really." He reached for her hand, braving clasping her fingers. "We're all here for you. Please don't forget."

Hermione was too stunned and emotional to say anything, so she remained silent.

Harry released her hand, thinking he'd pushed too far. This was going to be the hardest part, he was sure. Because he was ready. He was ready for her, but he had the sneaking suspicion that she wasn't quite ready for _him_. They'd tried before - insecurities and external forces got in the way. He needed her to be sure this time around.

"Hey," Hermione heard Harry say to the amassed group, and then the two of them were pulled into numerous hugs. Hermione received an enthusiastic one from Sirius, and a much gentler one from Lily. She was also surprised by Neville's embrace, but he made nothing of it as the four students got reacquainted after a summer apart.

Hermione kept her eyes on Harry the entire time, watching him interact with his two best friends. He didn't seem guarded. He almost looked lighter, happier, and it gave her pause. What happened this summer? What did she miss? Her traitorous mind took her back to the story he told her about the Jennifer girl, and she frowned. No. _Stop_.

What was wrong with her?

"I think it's time you kids boarded," Sirius said, surprising them all. "What?" he asked innocently, seeing their shocked faces. "Sometimes I've been known to act like a mature adult. Deal with it."

They said quick goodbyes, during which Lily kissed them _all_ atop their heads and told them _all_ to write often. That was Lily Evans. Mum to all.

"Back of the train?" Neville asked, as they climbed onto the Express, Harry gesturing for Hermione and Luna to go in after Neville.

"Yes," the other three said, almost in unison, which made them share a laugh.

It was still rather early, so the compartments were rather empty. They didn't encounter anyone untowardly, which was a relief. Hermione would have to go to the Prefects' carriage at some point and come face to face with Ron for the first time since the train incident, but she wasn't worrying about that. For all he knew, she had nothing to do with his ending up upside down stuck to the side of the train for close to half an hour.

"This one looks promising," Neville declared, before entering an empty compartment near the end of the train.

"Reckon your boyfriend will find us in here?" Luna asked Harry, laughing at her own joke.

Neville picked up the thread, even as Hermione frowned. "Malfoy's nothing if not determined," he said, laughing as well; "he won't stop until he sets eyes on our handsome and badass friend here."

"Har har," Harry faked a laugh. "Very funny."

"You missed us," Neville said.

Harry couldn't help his grin, his eyes flicking Hermione's way on instinct. "I did. I really did."

* * *

Like the year before, Harry was relegated to spending the Sorting seated at the Gryffindor table next to Hermione Granger. Only, this year, he wasn't the least bit sour about it. For once, he had a friend at this table, though he still had 'enemies.' Jack hadn't said anything to him at all, Ginny was sitting further along the table and Ron had shot him a heated look. Okay, so he did still have enemies, but that paled in comparison to how it felt to have Hermione talking to him, even looking at him.

Harry didn't actually pay attention to the Sorting at all, until Hermione grabbed his forearm and gestured towards the front of the Great Hall.

"It's Olivia's turn," she said, and Harry followed her gaze.

And there, indeed, was Olivia Potter, seated on the stool, with McGonagall poised to set the Sorting Hat on her head. Harry thought that she looked too young to be up there. Sure, it'd been a while since he'd seen the half-sister he barely knew, but she just looked so small.

"Were we that small when we started?" he found himself asking.

"I reckon you were smaller," Hermione replied, her voice giving away her amusement before she turned serious. "But, yes, she does look tiny, doesn't she? They all do."

They waited a moment, before the Sorting Hat was declaring Olivia the third Potter in Gryffindor. There was collective cheering, in which Harry thoroughly participated. He toyed with the idea of saying something to her later, but he wasn't sure how it would go down. He didn't know her at all. In fact, he could probably count on one hand the number of times they'd actually spoken.

"Oh, that's wonderful," Hermione finally said.

"How well do you know her?" Harry found himself asking, feeling a little odd that Hermione probably knew _his_ half-sister far more than he did.

"As well as I could know my ex-best friend's little sister," she said with a shrug. "Why?"

"I don't know her at all."

Her features softened. "Well, now's your chance, I guess. If she'll let you."

"You mean, if Jack will," he countered. "Do you think she's been poisoned against me as well?"

"I don't know," she said, her voice solemn as she thought about it. "I guess we'll just have to find out."

"We?"

She blinked, but she did not respond to his query, as the Hall erupted in applause for the next student who was Sorted. Harry didn't push it. He would have to figure out what to do about Olivia, and then about Jack. They _were_ co-captains of the Quidditch team, which just made this entire year that bit more complicated. Now that the twins and their Chaser girls were gone; they'd need an entirely new team, which meant that he'd actually _have_ to captain _with_ Jack. What was Professor McGonagall trying to do to him?

When Dumbledore declared the Feast open; Harry was able to distract himself with food. Hermione prattled on about anything and everything aside from her holiday. She studiously did not mention her parents or New York to him, and Harry wasn't going to ask. She'd tell him when she was ready.

Patience. He had to have a lot of patience.

After dinner, Hermione headed to Gryffindor Tower to oversee the fifth-year prefects getting the First-Years situated, while Harry accompanied Luna and Neville to their respective Houses. Sure, it felt good to be back, but he did miss his mum. Not that he'd ever admit that.

The Common Room was buzzing when he finally made it to Gryffindor Tower. Students were excited to be back, but he was sure that their opinions about that would surely change when they had to be up at the crack of dawn the next day.

As tempted as he was to rush up to his dormitory and avoid the evening in its entirety, he _couldn't_. He was worried about his trunk, of course, but he doubted that Jack or Ron would try something this year. Jack was being unusually subdued, and Harry didn't even notice Ron.

Hermione. All he saw was Hermione Granger.

He found her sitting on the couch opposite the fireplace, talking to none other than Olivia Potter herself. He suspected that Hermione might have done it on purpose, just to make it easy for him. Despite that, he was still wary of interrupting them, though that had to be better than just standing awkwardly and staring at them.

"There he is," Hermione said when she spotted him making his way towards them.

"Hey," he said quietly, looking between the two girls. "Everything go okay?" he asked Hermione.

"About as expected," she said simply, which gave him the opportunity to let the situation get awkward, or do something about it.

Mustering all the courage he had, he looked at Olivia, who was already looking at him curiously. "It's cool that you got into Gryffindor," he managed to say.

"Is it?" she questioned, which threw him for a moment.

"I guess being a Potter in Gryffindor - " he stopped. "Actually, being a Potter _anywhere_ has its drawbacks, but I promise it's not that bad. At least, not _all_ the time."

"How can you be so sure?" she asked, and she sounded so small. It was a little heartbreaking.

"Experience," he said with a shrug. Really, if he'd managed to survive all that Hogwarts had thrown at him so far; she was going to be perfectly fine. "Plus, you already have family and friends looking out for you."

She smiled up at him, which did wonders for his nerves. Maybe she didn't hate him after all.

Harry headed up a few minutes later, citing that he wanted to get all set for their first day before the dormitory filled up with rowdy boys. Hermione just watched him go, unsure how she felt about the situation they found themselves in. She let out a long sigh once he was out of sight, and the girl next to her nudged her with her elbow.

"Are you okay?"

Wasn't that the million dollar question?

Hermione didn't answer because she didn't know what to say. _Was_ she okay? Did she even know how to be _okay_? What did that word even mean?

She was still thinking about it when she too called it a night. It wasn't that _late_ , but it was later than she'd intended for her first night back. She bid Eloise and Fay goodnight, before she headed up to their dormitory.

On her way, she encountered one of the last people she wanted to see.

"Hermione?"

The brunette turned sharply in the corridor, not expecting to hear that voice so soon.

Ginny was looking at her somewhat expectantly. "I didn't see you on the train," she said nervously.

Hermione just stared at her. Truly, Hermione liked to think that she was over everything that had happened, but she really wasn't. Just looking at the redhead brought back all the bad memories of the previous school year. She couldn't forgive her. She wasn't even sure that she wanted to.

"That was by design," Hermione eventually said.

Ginny dropped her gaze. "I miss my friend."

Hermione puffed out a breath. "Well, you should have thought about that before you tried to steal my boyfriend."

"Hermione," she forced. "I want us to be friends again."

"That isn't how it works, Ginny," Hermione told her. "If you need a friend so badly, make other ones. Talk to _other_ people. _Date_ other people, because you won't get any joy from any of us here. I'm not interested. Neither is Jack, and you better stay away from Harry."

Ginny opened her mouth to reply, but Hermione didn't give her the chance.

"I have somewhere to be," she said, pushing past her and heading up to her room. It'd been an exhausting day, and all she wanted to do was prepare for the first day of school and then crawl into bed and get some sleep. This was one of the drawbacks of arriving on a Sunday - the students weren't afforded much time to acclimate to being back in the Castle.

Even so, Hermione Granger was roaring to go in the morning. She got ready in record time, and then headed downstairs. It wasn't a surprise to her when she found Harry waiting in the Common Room, his bag on the couch next to him.

"Good morning," she said, getting his attention.

The smile she received made her heart stutter. He stood up immediately but he didn't move towards her. He was waiting for her to lead them in this dance, and he vowed to be patient. Hermione appreciated him even more for it.

"I have your birthday present," she said, bouncing slightly. "Do you want it now?"

Harry nodded, despite the fact that he'd almost forgotten about it. "What is it?"

"I can't tell you that," she said while digging in the pocket of her robes for her wand. She raised it, and said, " _Accio_ Harry's present." A moment later, a wrapped package came flying through the air towards them.

Harry's reflexes immediately caught it, and he couldn't help his smile. "Quite heavy, huh?"

"I wasn't sure what to get you at first, but then I decided to replace your Potter hooded sweater that I nicked," she told him. "I'm keeping it, by the way."

He raised his eyebrows. "So that's where it went."

"Open it."

Harry didn't have to be told twice, as he ripped at the wrapping paper to reveal a black hooded sweater, with the words: "Mosstrooper No. 1" embroided on its front in green lettering, with a large rendering of Harry's scar piercing the letters.

"I found this factory shop in the Soho district where they made these," she explained. "It's tailor-made, just for you."

Harry was stunned silent for a moment, before his face broke out in a face-splitting smile. "This is amazing, Granger," he said quietly. "Thank you! Seriously, thank you!" He wanted to hug her, maybe even kiss her, but he didn't make the move.

Thankfully, she did. She hugged him tight for a moment, clinging to him the way that only Hermione Granger could.

"Breakfast?" he suggested once they released each other, somewhat reluctantly.

Hermione didn't know if she should bring up the topic of their previous relationship. She knew that she had to at some point, but when would be the right time. Now definitely wasn't the right time. It was now just something that was hanging over them, just waiting for them to tackle it.

One day.

Soon, maybe.

Hermione waited while Harry raced up to his dormitory to put away his present, and then he led the way to the Great Hall, as they absently discussed the upcoming day. He mentioned to her that he was worried about how the Quidditch team was going to work this year. He'd have to work _with_ Jack, as opposed to having to tolerate being in the same airspace as him.

In the end, Harry needn't have worried about having to approach Jack, because Jack surprised them all by moving to sit next to Harry once he and Hermione settled at the Gryffindor table. It was too early for Luna and Neville to be at breakfast, so they settled side by side and barely got to their food before Jack sat down to talk. It was clear that that was all he wanted. He didn't look at all comfortable, but it was clear to both Harry and Hermione that Jack was sitting where he was sitting for a reason. He didn't even reach for any food.

"Okay," Jack said, getting Harry's attention. "I don't like it any more than you do, but McGonagall made us _both_ captains of the team, which means that we're going to have to make it work somehow."

Harry just nodded, because what was he supposed to say?

"Ideally, we'd need to have tryouts as soon as possible, given our dangerously empty team," he said. "Which is why I've scheduled tryouts for this weekend."

Harry nodded again. If he was irritated that Jack made the decision without him, he didn't show it. He'd spent a while trying to come to terms to what this new dynamic would entail, but it was still so new to him. Plus, Harry wasn't sure how to go about voicing his ideas now that Jack seemed to be taking control of things.

Jack took a moment to acknowledge Harry's silence, before his features turned into something that Harry didn't immediately recognise. Jack Potter looked... unsure? Was that it? "You are planning on being there, right?" he asked, his voice small.

"Are you about to challenge me if I say yes?"

Jack let out an unexpected laugh that made them both uncomfortable. Jack recovered first, clearing his throat. "Are you planning on being there?" he asked again.

"Would I stand a chance if I was?"

"You _are_ our Keeper, Harry," he said. "Though Ron definitely wants in if you're not keen on the position."

His phrasing gave Harry pause. Perhaps the boy was thinking what Harry was thinking after all. "What are you really asking me, Jack?" Harry asked.

Jack looked around for a moment, before he shifted that bit closer. They should definitely be having this conversation in private, but he wasn't sure he trusted himself to be civil if there weren't people around. "McGonagall made you co-captain because she _knew_ I would try to get you off the team."

"I suspected as much."

"But you are our best Keeper."

" _And_ your best Seeker."

Jack laughed. He actually laughed, and those around them looked on in surprise. "Look, I want to win the House Cup again," he said. "It'd be amazing to win it every year we've been here."

"Which means that you have something in mind?"

He nodded. "And I believe you've thought of it as well."

Harry merely waited.

"Well, I was thinking that, umm," he hesitated. "Well, you see before she left, Angelina may have mentioned that you could have played Chaser."

"Did she?"

Jack actually rolled his eyes. "Based on the tryouts from last year, I think I have a pretty good idea of what to expect from you this weekend."

"You're not actually saying anything, Jack."

He sighed. "I want the best team, Harry."

"I do too."

"Which is why I think you should switch to Chaser this year."

Harry just watched him.

"If you're as good as I hope you are, it's the best decision we can make," he said. "Ron is a decent enough Keeper. I'm an all right Seeker on most days, and we can find kids with aggression problems easy, for our Beaters."

"What about the other Chasers?"

Jack was spurred on by the fact that Harry wasn't immediately against the idea. "Well."

"Well what?"

"I believe that Ginny intends to try out."

Harry shifted in his seat, his eyes flicking to a spot over Jack's shoulder. "Well, she can't."

Jack nodded once. "I know."

Harry was quiet for a long moment as he thought about it. This entire conversation was confusing, and surprising, but he was willing to see it through. As long as he got to play Quidditch, did it really bother him what position he played? And, really, it would be funny to see how James reacted to the fact that his other son was playing in his position.

James. Huh? Harry still wasn't sure what to make of all he'd been told about _that time_ , which was why he was going to continue to ignore it.

"I'm in," Harry eventually said.

Jack looked pleasantly surprised. "You are?"

"I won't play on the same team as Ginny Weasley," he reiterated.

"I know."

"Then we're good."

Jack just nodded, before he stood up and moved to a position further along the table. They'd talk, sure, but they weren't going to eat with each other. Well, not on days that they weren't playing Quidditch matches.

Harry sat for a moment, trying to accept what had just happened. "That just happened, right?" he asked Hermione.

"If you're referring to the fact that you and Jack had a public conversation where the worst that happened is one of you rolled your eyes, then yes, that _did_ just happen."

He risked a smile, though he was experienced enough not to dwell on it too much. It was doubtful that he and Jack would ever truly be brothers - too much had happened - but the least they could do was be civil. They did share a sister, who was now among them.

Harry was still in a bit of shock when McGonagall started to hand out their class schedules. Hermione retrieved Harry's for him, and did a quick check. Now that their O.W.L.s were over, they could trim down their course load. Hermione didn't actually ask Harry which subjects he was taking. Her original decision was to try to take as many as possible, but Professor McGonagall suggested that seven was more than enough. So seven it was: Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Transfiguration, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Potions.

According to Harry's schedule, he was taking everything she was, without the Arithmancy. Hermione noted that the six that he was taking were ones that were required to get a job in the Ministry. As an Auror, maybe.

Hermione could definitely see him as an Auror, but she suspected that he would likely steer clear of that profession, so long as James Potter worked in the Department.

"How's it looking?" Harry asked about the timetables, having finally recovered.

"Busy."

"That's the plan, isn't it?"

She shrugged. "I suppose I'll have to survive Arithmancy without you," she said. "Why'd you drop it?"

"Seven is a lot, Granger."

"No, I mean, _why_ did you pick that one to drop?"

It was his turn to shrug. "It was either that or Ancient Runes, and AR is so much more interesting. I can do Maths with my mum at home, if needs be."

Hermione registered her slight jealousy at having the option of _that_ at home, and then let it be. She was here now, with people who recognised her; noticed her; didn't overlook her; _wanted_ her. These were the people who cared about her.

She could see it as plain as day whenever she looked at Harry Potter.

Now, she just had to make sure that she accepted it.


	17. The Best Is Yet To Come

AN: Happy Hallowe'en, everyone! Courtesy of the Mosstroopers.

* * *

 **Chapter Seventeen: The Best Is Yet to Come**

"Okay, so we definitely have a problem."

Harry reasoned that Jack had to be talking to himself, because he barely looked up when he spoke. Or mumbled, really. He was so focused; so determined, that Harry actually had to tap him to get his attention.

"What's the problem?" Harry asked.

Jack bit his bottom lip in thought before he ran a hand through his hair, looking particularly annoyed by something. Harry happily ignored the similarities between them as they sat side by side in the stands of the Quidditch pitch. They'd flown up after the tryouts, with the students looking to join the team hanging around on the ground in front of them.

Harry could practically feel their nerves, even from all the way up in the clouds.

Well, practically.

"Look at the roster," Jack said, passing the piece of parchment he'd been scribbling on to Harry.

Harry shifted his glasses up his nose before he read the list of names, surprised to find a specific one somewhat controversially missing. "Uh, Jack?"

"Hmm?"

"Weasley isn't on this list," Harry said.

"I know."

"Oh." Harry took a deep breath. "Is _that_ the problem?"

Jack sighed. "Can you honestly tell me that Ron is the best choice for Keeper?" he asked seriously. "Based on the tryouts we just witnessed, you know as well as I do that he's not the first choice for the position."

Harry had been trying to figure out how to bring it up, and he was relieved that Jack came to the conclusion himself. He'd been busy drawing on his 'What Would Hermione Do?' reserves, and Jack saved him the awkwardness. "Emily definitely had a better tryout," Harry agreed.

"Do you think she'll be able to handle a match environment?"

"We can prepare her for it," he said. "With a warm-up match, like last year. I mean, even if she tanks the warm-up; at least she'll know what to expect."

Jack looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Are you only saying that because you totally tanked _your_ warm-up game?"

"I'd thank you not to bring that up ever again," Harry said casually, forcing himself not to smile. "I almost quit after that, you know?"

"I know."

Harry frowned, confused for only a moment, before he figured out that Hermione probably mentioned it. He wasn't sure what he felt about that. It was unlikely that Hermione hadn't told Jack things, but it still felt a little bit like a betrayal of his confidence. "Granger told you?"

He nodded. "We used to be best friends, you know?" he said softly. "Before _everything_... It kind of feels like an entirely different life."

Harry didn't like the direction this conversation was going, so he cleared his throat and sat up straight. "So, uh, what are we going to do about this team then?"

Jack also seemed to catch himself, and he took the piece of parchment back. "He's my best friend, but that's no reason to put him on the team," he said thoughtfully. "He's under the impression that he's already made it, so this is going to be really awkward."

Harry could only imagine.

"What do you think?"

Merlin Almighty, did Jack just ask his opinion?

"If it's something you want to avoid, I think I have an idea," Harry offered. "Just bear with me." He took the parchment back from Jack, reached in his pocket for a ballpoint pen, and scribbled something at the bottom of the list. "It's just, well, he's not _terrible_ ," he added. "He could be used as a Beater or a Keeper, also like Dean maybe, and it'd be good for us to have a Reserve player who's versatile, given that Voldemort is trying to kill you." _And me_.

Jack visibly tensed. He definitely didn't want to talk about Voldemort right now, so he just took the parchment back and studied it. Their handwriting was so different, slanting in different directions owing to their different handedness. Harry's right and Jack's left.

.

 _Gryffindor Quidditch Team_

 _Chasers: Demelza Robins, Katie Bell, Harry Potter_

 _Beaters: Jimmy Peakes, Richie Coote_

 _Seeker: Jack Potter_

 _Keeper: Emily Rosen_

 _Reserve: Ronald Weasley_

.

"Reserve, huh?" Jack asked.

Harry nodded. "If Emily hadn't tried out; he'd be the Keeper," he said. "It's something to consider."

"Are we even allowed to have a Reserve player?"

"According to the rulebook, yes. We can even have two."

"There's a rulebook?"

Despite himself, Harry laughed. "Okay, co-captain, you're going to have to read up on the rules before we start the season," he said. "Have to set an example."

Jack rolled his eyes. "I'll get right on it."

Harry shook his head, before he looked over the railing at the students waiting below. There was a sudden cheer, which made him pull back suddenly. "Romilda Vane and her giggling band of misfits are still down there," he told Jack.

Jack groaned. "They haven't left me alone all week," he said. "It's driving me crazy."

"Is it?"

He rolled his eyes again. "Now that Ginny's agreed to go on that date with that Carmichael guy the first Hogsmeade weekend, it's open season on Jack Potter."

"And you're actually complaining?"

He sighed. "I kind of just want them to leave me alone, to be honest. I'm sick of dodging questions about my parents, and I don't - " he stopped suddenly. "Sorry," he said; "you probably don't even care about any of this."

Harry said nothing.

Jack cleared his throat, before he stood up. "We should get going," he said. "Don't want to keep the masses waiting. They might start a riot."

Harry just nodded, as he too stood up and reached for his broom. In silence, the two of them began their descent down to the ground, the group already crowding around them.

He and Jack stood side by side once they dismounted, each of them looking quite the force. Jack was slightly taller and broader, and Harry was leaner and more agile. They were practically born to be Quidditch players.

Daddy James would be proud.

Jack stepped forward, ready to speak, but then snapped his mouth shut. Maybe his eyes settled on Ron or something, because he stepped back again and handed the parchment to Harry. He didn't have to say anything because Harry already took the cue.

Harry stepped forward and did his best not to read too much into the roles that he and Jack were now playing. "Um, well, after much thought and discussion, Jack and I have finalised the team for this year." He felt a little proud, particularly knowing that Hermione was in the stands, _watching_. Well, she'd spent most of the tryouts reading a novel, but he could practically _feel_ her eyes on him.

He looked at the parchment. "As Chasers, we have Demelza Robins, Katie Bell and Harry Potter. Beaters are Jimmy Peakes and Richie Coote; Seeker is Jack Potter, and our new Keeper is Emily Rosen."

There was silence for a beat before there was a burst of surprised murmuring.

Harry continued through the noise. "And, as a Reserve, we have Ronald Weasley."

The murmuring only increased, and Harry could practically feel Jack's panic.

"And Dean Thomas," Harry added, and Jack shot him a confused look. "We'll put the list up in the Common Room for reference, and training starts later this week. Look out for the practice timetable." He knew that he and Jack would have to meet with the other House captains to discuss practice times on the Quidditch pitch. Really, the admin of this new position was a tiny bit exhausting.

"Until then," Harry said, and then turned around, effectively dismissing them.

Jack kept his eyes on him. "What was that?" he asked in a rushed whisper.

"I realised that as soon as I said Weasley; it sounded like a pity position," he explained carefully. "And, really, if Voldemort comes after you; I'll invariably get caught in it as well, so it makes sense to have _two_ Reserves, don't you think?" Harry wouldn't say it was logical, but Jack seemed so out of sorts, and there was a part of Harry that felt as if it was his responsibility to do something.

Sometimes Harry hated that he _felt_ so much.

Jack said nothing more, and neither did Harry. They just exchanged a nod, and then headed to the changing rooms in silence. They would have to field questions, Harry was sure, and he definitely wasn't looking forward to it.

The Gryffindor Common Room was buzzing with the news that Ron Weasley hadn't made the Quidditch team by the time Harry made it back to the Tower. Jack wasn't anywhere to be found, but people scarcely approached Harry anyway. One of the perks of being an outsider, he supposed. It was still strange for him. He was never quite sure of where he stood with the Gryffindor faithful and it sometimes gave him the effect of whiplash.

Colin Creevey did brave asking him a question about it though, but Hermione quickly shot him down, her protectiveness making him smile. She and Harry sat side by side on the couch opposite the fireplace, and she quietly assured him that, based on the tryouts; they picked the best team.

Harry had something to ask her, but he wasn't sure how to go about it. Thankfully, as if sensing what he needed, Hermione gave him the _in_ he needed.

"Is everything okay, Harry?"

He took a deep breath, visibly steeling himself. "There's something I want to ask you," he said seriously. "Before, when you were still friends with Jack; how much did you tell him about me?" he asked.

She gave him a confused look that he struggled not to find adorable.

"Because, today, he mentioned that he knew that I wanted to quit after that first warm-up game, and the only way he would know that is if you told him, and I'm just wondering what else you could have told him when I thought that everything we talked about stayed between us."

She blinked in surprise.

He waited patiently.

Hermione cleared her throat. "In reference to the time you're talking about; yes, I did tell him that you'd considered quitting," she said. "Like he suspected; like he _expected_. But then I had to remind him that staying made you stronger; that, regardless of your performance or the fact that he and James enjoyed watching you fail so much, you were choosing to rise above it all. I was so proud of you, and I needed him to know that he hadn't won." She shook her head. "Really, in retrospect, I should have taken it as a sign that - " she stopped suddenly.

"That what?" he asked.

Her eyes met his. "That Jack was toxic."

Harry ignored the flare of something _protective_ in him. What was wrong with him? Seriously. He wasn't supposed to care, and he hated that Jack was making it so difficult for him not to. "What else did you tell him?" he asked.

She took a moment to think. "Nothing personal," she said, needing to reassure him. It was the truth. "But I did tell him _some_ things, solely in an attempt to alter his view of you because it was so skewed, and so wrong, and I tried to change it... But, clearly, I failed." She shook her head. "Turns out I learned more about my own friends than I ever thought I could teach them about you."

Harry wasn't sure what to say to that, so he said nothing. Instead, he rested his hand on her knee.

"Harry?"

He looked at her.

"Are we okay?" she asked.

Harry didn't respond because, really, he didn't know if they were okay. He didn't even think that she knew what that truly meant. Did _he_? What was _okay_ , anyway? He didn't want to be apathetic about it, so, in the end, he patted her knee once, and just let it be.

* * *

For Hermione's birthday, Harry was sorely tempted to pull out all the stops like he'd promised her the year before but Luna had to convince him to tone it down. Apparently, _she_ was the only one who was allowed to overwhelm Hermione with sentiment.

"Today could be the day," Harry argued.

"What day?" Luna asked, physically wrapping Hermione's birthday present.

"That she lets us try again."

Luna stopped what she was doing to give him her full attention. "Harry, maybe you should just let it go," she said gently.

His eyes widened in alarm. "What?"

She sighed. "Just hear me out," she said carefully. "I know you love her, and I'm sure that Hermione knows how you feel, but maybe you should take a step back."

He frowned. "What do you think I've been doing this entire time?"

Luna raised her hands in innocence. "I'm just saying that maybe you should take _more_ of a step back," she said gently. "Just for a little while. It's obvious that she feels the same way about you."

"Then what _is_ the problem?"

"Right now, it's as if you're together without actually being together, and she's comfortable with that. She doesn't want to worry about getting hurt again, which means that she'll fight the attachment." Luna sighed again. "I'm not saying that you should start seeing other people or anything drastic like that. Just, you know, take that step back and let her come to you. It's not important for you to be right where she left you, you know?"

No, Harry didn't _know_.

The mere idea of giving Hermione 'space' just didn't sit well with him. It was a thought that bothered him the entire day. And, as a result, after initially wishing Hermione a happy birthday in the morning, Harry steered clear of her. It wasn't the most difficult thing to do, given that she also stayed as hidden as she could throughout the day. Harry reasoned that she was avoiding being the centre of attention because it wasn't something with which she was comfortable.

Harry wondered if her parents sent her anything. They didn't usually remember her birthday, and he wondered if this year would be different. He wished with all his might that it would be, but he wasn't holding his breath. Her parents were -

He didn't even know what her parents were. Should he even be calling them 'parents?'

Once classes let out, Harry made his way to Gryffindor Tower. He didn't have long until he had to be down at the Quidditch pitch for practice, so he didn't bother getting started on his homework. Instead, he got changed into his practice uniform and then headed down to the Common Room. Hermione wasn't anywhere to be found, which wasn't a surprise. She was probably holed up in the library already.

He sighed.

He'd give her the space she wanted. She did _want_ it, right? Well, she hadn't given him any indication that she wanted anything _else_.

"Hey, Mate," Dean said, coming up behind Harry. The Muggleborn seemed to take to Harry after he was put onto the Quidditch team. Contrary to the fact that Harry and Jack repeatedly told people that the Reserve decisions were made by both of them; it wasn't lost on anyone that Ron was Jack's and Dean was Harry's.

Choices, not replacements.

"You headed down already?" Dean asked.

Harry snapped to attention. "Uh, yeah," he said. "Want me to wait for you?"

Dean nodded. "Give me five minutes."

Harry also nodded, as he watched Dean rush up to their dormitory. A scoff to his right made him turn and he caught sight of Cormac McLaggen sitting in an armchair, looking equal parts smug and irritated.

"What?" Harry asked irritably. A year ago, he definitely wouldn't have even engaged in any type of conversation with the older boy.

"Nothing."

"Speak, McLaggen," he said, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "Nothing's ever stopped you before."

"Just, you know, I didn't think you'd be the one to pick players because you wanted to make friends."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Because you know me so well, huh?"

"I think I know you well enough," McLaggen said. "Despite what the rest of the world thinks; you _are_ a Potter."

Harry laughed out loud, which surprised McLaggen. He was still laughing when Dean returned, confusion on his face.

"What did I miss?" he asked.

Harry took a moment to compose himself. "You know what, Dean; it doesn't even matter," he said. "People like McLaggen," he added, his eyes on the Seventh-Year sitting on the armchair; "in the long run, they don't matter." It wasn't said to be mean-spirited - just the truth - because Harry was done with the bullies. Sure, he'd had to worry about only Jack and his goons before, but now that he was no longer invisible, people like McLaggen liked to think he was fair game.

But he wasn't. Not anymore.

"Ready to go?" Harry asked Dean.

Dean nodded, and then they headed out. It was still a little early, so the two of them just raced the length of the pitch as a warmup until the rest of the team arrived. They had the pitch for two hours, before the Hufflepuffs would arrive to take over.

Jack led the first half of the practice, working on tactics and fitness before Harry and the other Chasers - including Dean - ran through a few plays. Next, they had a quick internal match to test them out. Jack wasn't really able to participate in the practice plays, but he did watch from above and make notes on where they could improve.

Once the team was dismissed, Harry and Jack did their Seeker practice. It was mainly for Jack's benefit, but Harry enjoyed it more than he let on. Basically, they'd release the Snitch, and then race to see who could catch it first. Really, only Harry could push Jack to be a better Seeker, and it also offered Harry the opportunity to get better as well.

It was also a good lesson for them both to learn when they lost.

Harry didn't exactly take great pleasure in winning and, as much as he tried not to keep count of the number of thimes he'd reached the Snitch before Jack; he was winning by a large margin. The idea was not to hurt Jack's confidence, but both brothers could tell that he was getting better and better by the day.

When Harry inevitably caught the Snitch, they called it a day, dropping off their brooms and then making their way up to the Castle. Their walks were usually made in silence, but today was different. Jack had something to say.

Or ask.

"Is Hermione okay?" he asked quietly, decidedly not looking at Harry. "I, uh, haven't really seen much of her today, and I wanted to, uh, wish her happy birthday, but - " he stopped suddenly. "Uh."

Harry just stared at him in mild disbelief.

Jack continued. "I mean, she _is_ okay, right?" he asked. "Her parents are real pieces of work, and I know it's no longer my place to worry, but I can't help it. Is she - "

"Jack," Harry said, his voice flat. "I will talk to you about anything and everything other than Granger," he said carefully. "If she wants to talk to you, then she will, okay? I won't be some go-between. She makes her own decisions, does and says what she wants, and I'm not going to try to take that away from her."

Jack merely nodded, before he sighed. "It feels as if we've swapped places," he said solemnly. " _You're_ now Hermione's best friend, and I'm on the outs." He huffed. "Don't get me wrong; I know it's entirely my own fault, but that shouldn't stop me from wishing things were different, right?"

Harry didn't know how to respond to that.

"Because I do," he said, bypassing Harry's silence. "I think about it sometimes. My dad was talking about regret when - " he paused. "I, just, well, I guess that I don't want to be like him. I don't want to have regrets, and Hermione is one of them."

Harry swallowed.

Jack cleared his throat. "So are you."

No. No. Harry just shook his head. No. No. This was not happening.

"I'm sorry," Jack said. " I know that - "

"No," Harry said. "Jack, no. Not today, okay? Not - "

"But - "

"Jack!" he snapped.

The older brother sighed. "Okay."

Harry's heart was beating wildly in his chest. This was too much for his little brain to handle, and he just needed Jack to _stop talking_. Almost involuntarily, he started to walk faster, wanting to get to a place that had other people before Jack started with his words again.

He didn't even realise that he was holding his breath until he spotted the first group of students.

"I'm headed to the Kitchens," Jack said, peeling off to the right.

Harry wasted no time in rushing to Gryffindor Tower and disappearing upstairs. He ignored nearly everyone as he showered and got dressed for dinner. He stayed in his room to work on his homework, and then sat with Luna and Neville at the Hufflepuff table for dinner, mainly because Hermione skipped coming to the Great Hall. He also wanted to be as far away from Jack as possible.

After dinner, Harry went to Gryffindor Tower to pick up Hermione's gift before he went to find her in the library. She was sitting at their group of tables, books spread out in front of her and an unapproachable look on her face.

Really, she was desperately beautiful.

"Hey, Granger?" he said, coming to a stop in front of her.

She waited a beat before she looked up from her written notes. "Hmm?"

There were so many things that he wanted to say, but he was going to listen to Luna's advice. He wasn't going to push her. "Think we can take a quick walk?" he asked. "I want to give you your present."

Hermione smiled at him as she slid out of her seat and followed him out of the library. If she'd found it odd that he hadn't joined her for a late afternoon homework session; she didn't say so. They made idle conversation as they walked, and Harry waited until they were sufficiently far away from the library to bring them to a stop.

"So, have you had a good day?" he asked, almost cringing as he did.

"It's definitely not been the worst," she informed him. "I guess I've enjoyed the fact that it's just been an ordinary day. Luna mentioned that she had to force you not to go all out."

He blinked. "I'm definitely listening to her."

"Thank you," she said, as if she knew that he was referring to something else.

Harry waited a beat, before he pushed on. Today was a monumental day for several reasons. "I think that Jack tried to apologise to me," he told her.

"What?"

"Exactly."

She frowned. "He... tried?"

"I kind of didn't let him really get down to it," he explained. "He might be ready, but I'm certainly not."

Hermione nodded in understanding. That part made sense to her, but the Jack part didn't. She'd never admit it to Harry, but she sometimes missed him. He'd never seen anything other than who she was, and he'd never shunned her for it. He was different to Ginny that way. Hermione didn't feel a burst of resentment when she thought of Jack, the way she did with Ginny.

Ginny.

It was all over the Castle that she'd agreed to go on a date with an older Seventh-Year boy, Eddie Carmichael of Ravenclaw. Admittedly, Hermione wasn't the biggest fan of the boy given his history of selling potions to other students, but it was still something to see Ginny taking her advice. The redhead definitely needed to branch out and talk to other people.

"Granger?" Harry said.

"Hmm?"

"Happy birthday," he said gently, handing her the present he'd known he was going to give her all summer. It just showed how in sync they were that their gifts for each other already matched. It wasn't particularly expensive or flashy, because he knew she wouldn't like that.

He could have carried it around all day, but he wanted there to be a special specific time for the handing-over, and this was it. The present itself was a small box that Hermione definitely recognised.

Harry started to speak before she opened the box. "I thought, you know, we could add it to the pendant you already have."

She looked at him. "You're spoiling the surprise."

He laughed softly. "Sorry."

Hermione took a breath, before she opened the box to reveal a flag-shaped pendant, to match the one already hanging around her neck. The pad of her thumb traced the letters written on the flag, her heart stilling. _Mosstrooper #4_.

Tears immediately sprung to her eyes. "Oh, Harry."

He couldn't help his grin. "Yes?"

"This is - " she stopped. "It's - just - " She took a deep breath. "Thank you, Harry," she whispered. "You don't know what - "

Harry's smile tempered slightly. Of course he knew what it meant to her. "Do you want me to put it on for you?"

All she could really do was nod.

Harry made quick of retrieving the pendant and waited for her to unclasp her own necklace. They were both silent as he threaded the pendant on the chain, and then used his eyes to make her turn around. Hermione turned and shifted her hair out of the way. Harry, undoubtedly, stared at the skin of her neck for an obscene amount of time, before he caught himself.

It was almost déjà vu.

Harry tried not to let his fingers linger but he failed.

"There you go," he said, stepping back. "Let's have a look."

Hermione turned around, her fingers already playing with the double-pendant. "It's perfect, isn't it?"

Harry nodded. "You are, yes," he said in a breathy whisper. Okay, that was it. He was done now. She knew where he stood.

Harry didn't miss her arms twitch, as she resisted the urge to throw her arms around him. He'd felt disheartened after Luna spoke to him, but now he was sure she was right. Hermione _would_ come to him when she was ready.

So, literally, he took a step back, feeling the persistent tension within him relax. "You do your thing and try to resist," he said, smiling somewhat smugly. "It's actually kind of cute."

And then he walked away.

She let him.

* * *

Hermione Granger reasoned that his being the only one in the Common Room had to be some sort of sign. She went looking for someone else - anyone else - but he was the only one in the Common Room, sitting comfortably on the couch across from the fireplace, reading a book that she didn't recognise.

It was late Saturday afternoon, and people were out and about. Except him, of course.

Of course he looked up when she entered, and of course he looked worried. Anyone would be, based on her heavy breathing and slightly panicked facial expression. Because she _was_ panicked. Really, it was actually an understatement.

He immediately stood up, his own facial expression revealing his concern. "Are you all right?" he asked.

 _That_ was a loaded question. "Uh," she stuttered; "have you seen, umm, Jack or Ron?"

He blinked in sudden confusion, before he managed to school his features. Why would she be asking for them? "I think they said something about going out to the Quidditch pitch with Dean and Seamus."

"Oh."

He shifted awkwardly. "Are you all right?" he asked again.

"Me?" She was distracted. Yes, that was the word. She was _distracted_ , by what she'd done, and by what she now had to do. "I'm - " she halted. "I need your help."

He practically perked up at the sound of that. It'd been a few weeks since her birthday and his heart hurt that bit more every single day. "What do you need?" he asked.

She hesitated, but decided to run with it. It didn't matter now anyway. She knew that he could keep a secret. They'd been keeping each other's secrets for much too long now. "Listen, Harry," she started. "I hope you know that I would always come to you first, but, well, this is about Ginny," she said carefully.

He visibly stiffened, but pushed through it. It had to be important if Hermione was getting involved in something involved with Ginny. The two of them hadn't uttered words to each other since the first night they arrived on the Express. Also, the entire Castle knew that today was the day that Ginny and Eddie Carmichael were going on their infamous date.

"What happened?" Harry found himself asking. "Did something happen?"

"I need you to come with me," she said slowly, nodding her head. "I'll answer all your questions after we've done what we have to do."

"And what exactly do we have to do?"

She looked away for a moment, before she met his gaze, stilling at the intensity of the green of his eyes. It'd been a while since she allowed herself to look him in the eye. "We need to break into the Ravenclaw Common Room," she said.

If he was surprised, he didn't show it.

"And drop off something," she added.

He raised an eyebrow expectantly, just waiting. He could tell from her voice that there was definitely more to it.

"Or, rather, _someone_ ," she clarified.

He startled, but he wasn't that surprised. It definitely wasn't the strangest request he'd ever received. Also, if Hermione needed his help, he was always going to give it. She had to know that. "Okay then, lead the way," he said, starting to walk towards her.

Hermione waited until he was near enough for her to reach out and squeeze one of his hands, and then she really was leading the way. She walked briskly, moving through the corridors from memory. She led him into a rather large, hidden alcove, and the scene that Harry walked into was a little shocking, to say the least.

There was three suits of armour toppled over, and two prone bodies lying on the ground: one was Ginny Weasley and the other was Eddie Carmichael.

"What the hell?" Harry automatically said. "What on earth happened, Granger?"

Hermione took out her wand and lifted Ginny off the ground, levitating her in front of both of them. "There was an incident," she said flatly. "As you know, Ginny kind of went on a date with Eddie here, and he might have tried _something_."

Harry blinked. "Did Ginny do this to him?"

" _I_ did."

He just stared at her.

"I'll explain later," she said. "Do you think you can help me get Ginny back to the Tower, and then we'll deal with Carmichael? I haven't yet practiced the Disillusionment Charm and I need a lookout."

Harry just nodded, as he stepped back. He peeped out of the alcove, and then stepped out. The Castle was quiet enough that the trip back to Gryffindor Tower was wonderfully uneventful. Harry was still on alert though, his own wand at the ready.

The Common Room, thankfully, was still empty, and Harry waited downstairs while Hermione maneuvered Ginny up the stairs to her dormitory. He was a little antsy, which was mainly because he hadn't spent any time _alone_ with Hermione since her birthday, and now here they were.

Hermione looked a little less stressed when she returned to the Common Room. "She's still out," she said to him. "I think it's better that way."

Harry blinked. "Do you know what he gave her?"

"It wasn't anything long-lasting," she said quietly. "He just _wanted_ Jack's ex-girlfriend, apparently. To laud it over the Boy-Who-Lived."

He just stared at her. What?

She nodded apathetically, before she took Ginny up to her dormitory, leaving Harry to ponder over what was happening right now. Or, what _had_ happened. What was Carmichael thinking? What a stupid idiot. Did he really think that nobody would find out?

When Hermione returned, she looked thoughtful. "We should probably deal with him now," she said, stepping towards him.

"Why can't we just leave him where he is?" he asked.

Her eyes narrowed. "Harry."

He huffed. "Okay."

"Do you have any ideas about how to get into the Ravenclaw Common Room?"

"We could always just ask Luna," he offered. "But she's visiting Hagrid with Neville right now." He spent a moment thinking about it. "I mean, we could always just break in," he suggested. "It's not that difficult. The riddles aren't that hard and, if we're properly disguised or, umm, invisible; we should be able to get in and out easily enough."

Hermione nodded in thought. Even though she hadn't practiced the Disillusionment Charm that much, she wasn't against trying it on Carmichael. She wouldn't have done that with Ginny or herself, but she had no qualms about the Ravenclaw.

"Uh, Jack has a Cloak of Invisibility," she said. "In his trunk. I think I might still have access to it."

Oh. "If you can get it, that's a way to get in," he said. "I think, between the two of us, we can figure out the riddle."

"Okay, I'll be right back," she said, rushing past him and up the stairs to his dormitory.

Harry found this all a little overwhelming, and he was frowning slightly when she returned, Cloak in tow. He couldn't help thinking about what Jack or Ron would do to Carmichael if they ever found out what he'd tried to do to Ginny.

"Shall we?" she asked, and then they were on their way. Harry followed in silence, allowing her to lead the way. He enjoyed being able to watch her as she walked through the corridors, her skirt swaying and her ponytail swinging to the rhythm of her footsteps. He missed being able to hold her, to touch her and kiss her whenever he wanted to. He missed being able to talk to her about anything and everything and he missed being able to look at her without it being creepy.

Because, right now, he felt like a bit of a pervert.

"Harry?"

He snapped his head towards her, blushing at the fact that he'd been caught staring.

"In here."

It took them close to five minutes to figure out how they were going to get all three of them into the Common Room. First, she cast a Disillusionment Charm on the boy on the floor, surprising herself when it actually worked. She looked at Harry to see if he saw, but he was busy trying to sort out the Cloak.

It wasn't lost on her that he'd actively taken a step back.

Breathing a sigh, Hermione cast Silencing Charms on all three of them before Harry levitated Carmichael, covered the two Gryffindors, and then they were on their way. They encountered a few students, but they stayed near the walls to avoid them.

As Harry suspected, the riddle was simple, and they gained access to the Ravenclaw Common Room easily enough. There were students who turned their attention to the open door, and Hermione dropped her Silencing Charm to speak.

"Oh damn, I forgot my Transfiguration Book at the library."

Harry grinned at her, even though she probably couldn't see. She reached blindly for him, took hold of his hand and tugged lightly, getting them moving again. It was a lot harder to get through the many bodies, but they just about managed it, narrowly avoiding elbows to the abdomens. It was even more complicated getting up the stairs, but Harry was only able to register his relief that the stairs didn't practically spit them out, seeing as they weren't Ravenclaws.

As if the ghosts were smiling down on them, Carmichael's dormitory was empty, and it was easy enough to find which bed was his. The tosser had his name _everywhere_. Hermione could practically smell the potions.

Hermione closed the door behind them, locked it and removed the Cloak. With less care than was strictly necessary, Harry set Carmichael down on his bed, and Hermione dropped the Disillusionment Charm.

Harry immediately pointed his wand at the still-unconscious boy.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked.

He looked at her with innocent eyes. "Nothing."

"Harry."

There was something in her voice that made him cower. "Well, you see, you had all the fun stunning him and I'm feeling a little left out."

"So you thought you'd do what exactly?"

"It's a mild compulsion charm," he explained.

"That does what exactly?"

He couldn't help his grin. "Well, basically, every time he thinks something nasty about either you or Ginny; he'll have the urge to visit the loo."

She just stared at him.

"And not for just a number one, mind you."

She blinked - once, twice - before she burst out laughing. "That's brilliant!"

He was surprised by her reaction. "It is? I thought you'd be mad."

She shook her head. "He deserves it," she concluded somewhat darkly, making him look at her in a new way. If Hermione were even remotely vain; she might have said that it was a look of pure fascination on his face. He hadn't looked at her like that in a while.

Well, not that she'd seen anyway.

Harry took a deep breath before he pointed his wand at the unconscious boy once more. He whispered the incantation, watched the spell take effect and then grinned at Hermione. "One week, tops," he said happily.

"Tops?"

"Depends on the potency of his thoughts," he informed her, shrugging slightly.

"I didn't know there was a spell that could do that," she said thoughtfully.

He dropped his gaze, blushing slightly. "There isn't. Not exactly, anyway."

She eyed him for a moment. "You are going to elaborate on that," she said; "but I think we should get out of here first, before someone catches us."

Harry nodded in agreement before stepping towards her, taking the Cloak from her and throwing it over them both. She absently stepped closer to him, breathing him in. He smelt so familiar that Hermione was forced to close her eyes.

It felt different this time. They'd been through something, and now there was something new and different between them, though neither would be able to explain how that was if they were ever asked to.

Hermione started them moving, absently linking her arm with his when they reached the door. She whispered another Silencing Charm before she leaned forward to check if the corridor was empty, and then the two of them were making a dash for it.

They practically flew through the Common Room, narrowly avoiding a curious Seventh-Year, and then they were sprinting away from the entrance, their feet carrying them as fast as they possibly could.

In fact, Harry was quite impressed that he didn't have to slow his steps at all as they ran together. She might even have outpaced him on an off day.

They only slowed down when they were near Gryffindor Tower. Hermione came to a complete stop when the Fat Lady was in sight, removed the Cloak from herself and desperately tried to calm her erratic breathing.

It was only after a moment that Harry realised that she was laughing.

"What's so funny?" he asked, automatically smiling at her antics as he too removed the Cloak and held it over his forearm.

"If I hadn't had the good idea to Silence us, the whole of Ravenclaw would now know that you scream like a girl."

"I do not."

She laughed again. "For a second there, I thought it was Olivia standing next to me and not a Harry Potter who's voice has already broken."

He just stared at her, thoroughly maintaining the pretence that he was offended. He was desperate not to crack a smile.

When she'd recovered enough, she pat his arm gently. "Don't worry, Harry; you'll always be my knight in shining armour."

He dutifully puffed out his chest and lifted his nose higher. "Don't you forget it, Granger."

They exchanged a significant look, which removed all amusement from the situation. Whatever they'd done was because Eddie had tried to hurt Ginny. Harry _knew_ what it was like to be used in such a way, and he didn't wish it on anybody. Not even the person who'd done it to him.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" he asked seriously.

She looked away for a moment. "Well, I felt kind of off about the whole thing," she told him. "You know his reputation with the potions, and I was nervous, I guess. I mean, _I'm_ the one who pushed her to start spending time with other people; to _date_ other people."

Harry frowned. "You don't honestly think that this is your fault, do you?"

She blinked.

"Granger?"

"I don't know," she said. "I just - I guess I feel a little bit responsible."

Harry stepped forward. "Granger, please," he said. "This is not your fault, okay? Logically, I know you know that. Everyone makes decisions, and things happen."

She swallowed, effectively bypassing his words. "I went looking for her, because I had a bad feeling. It's - I found them and I - "

Harry stepped forward again. "You had to do something."

She blinked back her tears. "I did."

"And you did."

"I don't even think she saw me," she said. "Or him, for that matter."

"So my punishment is moot?"

"He'll probably have bad thoughts about her, so probably not."

Harry nodded. "Are you going to tell her it was you?" he asked.

"I haven't yet decided," she said. "But I think I won't. I wouldn't even know what to say."

Harry wanted to offer her _something_ , but he wasn't sure what. Which words was a person supposed to say at a time like this anyway?

"I just - I had to do something," she repeated.

"You did, Granger. You did good." Harry lifted his arms, moving to hug her but she flinched involuntarily.

"I should probably go and check if Ginny's awake," she said, sounding particularly nervous as she took a small step back.

Harry didn't allow the sting to show on his face. "You should," he agreed. "Umm, I'll just return this to Jack's trunk." He stepped back, hoping that Hermione left the trunk open. She didn't say anything otherwise, so he suspected that the genius she was had the foresight to do just that. "Will you let me know how she's doing?" he asked.

She waited a beat before she nodded, and then she was leading the way to the Fat Lady, thankfully at a much more sane pace. The Common Room was as empty as it'd been when she first entered almost an hour ago. Just him, and just her.

She gave him one last look. "Thank you, Harry," she said sincerely, and then she was sprinting up the stairs towards the girls' fifth-year dormitory.

Harry just watched her go. There was so much he wanted to say to her; so much that she needed to know. But they didn't have that kind of relationship anymore. He didn't even know what kind of relationship they _did_ have.

* * *

That all changed on Hallowe'en Day.

On said morning, Hermione noticed that Harry, Luna and Neville weren't at breakfast, and she immediately knew that the Mosstroopers had something planned. Instead of the burning desire to find out what they were up to, she was hit by a different feeling; a more morbid one. Loneliness. They were out somewhere making plans, and she was here, with people whom she didn't actually like.

She shook her head. No. These feelings were just residual ones from her birthday. This life she lived here had nothing to do with her parents, and she wouldn't allow them to ruin this day.

A day that was just a normal one, really.

Her resolve barely lasted through her morning classes. Hermione felt the full weight of her realisation as she went through the motions, barely participating in class and nodding absently whenever Fay or Eloise attempted to engage her in conversation.

By the time classes let out for the afternoon, Hermione was ready to disappear into a corner of the library and try to force away whatever she was feeling. That was the worst part, wasn't it? She couldn't even explain what she was feeling. It was _something_ ; something bad.

One of those feelings that creeps up on you, coming from no place in particular. One of those feelings that you don't see coming, that settles over you like a heavy cloud, demanding to be noticed.

It was suffocating.

She packed up her things, shouldered her bag and then left the classroom with her isolated destination in mind.

"Hey, Granger?"

Her heart skipped a beat, whether from the shock of the sound of his voice, or because the voice belonged to Harry Potter; she didn't know. "Harry. Hi."

He fell into step beside her as she continued with her walk towards her solitude in the library. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, his eyes full of concern as they stayed on her face. "You've been, uh, quiet. Barely said anything at lunch."

"You weren't even sitting with me at lunch."

He blushed, but ignored her comment. She had to know that he couldn't stop looking at her. "Are you okay?" he repeated.

"I'm - "

He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Hermione wasn't able to tell him that she was fine, because she definitely wasn't. She hated that these feelings were manifesting today. It was supposed to be a day of celebration, but all she could think about was -

Well, really, she couldn't help thinking that, even on this day, the great big world probably wouldn't even notice if she were to disappear.

"Granger?" he prompted, bringing her to a stop by placing a hand on her forearm.

She stared down at where he was touching her.

"Talk to me." His tone was so gentle, so pure, that tears sprung to her eyes. Merlin, what was wrong with her? Harry immediately stepped towards her. "Hey," he whispered. "Granger. Oh, Hermione."

At the sound of her first name from his lips, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. He closed his arms around her a beat later and Hermione couldn't remember feeling as safe as she did in that very moment. There was just something about being held by Harry Potter that settled the anxious monster inside of her.

Harry ran a soothing hand over her hair. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"What are _you_ sorry for?" she mumbled back, barely loosening her grip on him.

"I don't know," he said. "Just, whatever's making you feel this way. I'm sorry that it does. Please tell me what I can do to make it better."

"You're doing it."

He held her tighter. "You know you can talk to me," he whispered. "Describe what you're feeling. Maybe we can work through it together."

Hermione didn't know if she could put whatever she was feeling into words, let alone convey them well enough for Harry to understand. Nevertheless, she was willing to try. "I feel - I feel like I'm all on my own in this world, Harry," she said softly. "Like, I'm just forgotten in the middle of nowhere, and I could just disappear and nobody would notice."

There was so much that he wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut. She was talking now.

"Sometimes I feel like I don't even matter; like I'm lost in all this unknown." She wiped at a stray tear. "There's just darkness, and it's as if the ground is broken beneath me, pulling me down. I don't - I mean, I want it all to stop. How do I make it stop?"

Harry didn't immediately say anything. Instead, he just reached for her hand and squeezed it tight. "I know it feels like it sometimes, Granger, but I already told you that you are most definitely not alone in this world," he said carefully. "Let me be your anchor, Hermione. You can hold onto me."

She had to wipe away some more tears as they started to fall.

"Anytime you're lost and alone, I will find you," he told her. "Need me. Hold on. I won't let you drift. I won't let you disappear. I promise I won't."

Hermione just stared at him.

"Please don't cry," he whispered. "I don't like it when you cry."

"I don't like it either, believe me."

They shared a small smile.

Harry lifted his own hands to wipe at her tears. "These are just moments, like stepping stones, on your way to the you you're supposed to be," he said, cupping her face in his hands.

"You sound like a greeting card," she said, laughing through her tears.

"Made you smile, didn't it?"

"Thank you, Harry," she said softly, her gaze meeting his.

"I don't know what I did, but anytime, Granger."

She reached out to touch his face, her fingers featherlight against the skin of his cheek. Sometimes she caught herself marvelling over this boy who, in the great scheme of things, shouldn't exist. After all the world dealt him, he shouldn't be so full of care and love.

And yet.

"Where are you headed?" Harry asked, blinking.

The sound of his voice seemed to snap her to attention and she pulled her hand back. "The library."

"Oh, cool," he said, stepping back slightly. "Well, let me not keep you."

She kept her eyes on him, even as he shifted awkwardly and fidgeted in position. She cleared her throat. "Would you like to join me?" she asked.

His eyes snapped towards her. "What?"

"That Ancient Runes assignment looks tricky; I could use some help with it," she said, which they both knew was a lie.

A lie that Harry was always going to exploit. "Oh my," he said, dramatically clutching at his chest. "Did Hogwarts' Number One Student just ask for _my_ help? Professor Slughorn would croak and die if he were to hear that. I'm so honoured."

She rolled her eyes, before she put her hand out to take. "Come on."

Harry recognised that this was one of those moments he mentioned, and his heart skipped several beats. Was this it? Was this the moment that she told him she was ready? And, if it was, why on earth was he hesitating?

Taking a quick breath, Harry reached for her hand and allowed her to lead the way to the library. As they walked, his grip on her hand shifted until their fingers were entwined. Harry could practically feel their magic swirling together, and he couldn't help feeling as if he was coming home.

Hermione glanced over her shoulder at him as they walked, having to remind herself that he was still there. He told her that she could hold onto him and that was exactly what she intended to do.

Once they were settled at their table - opposite each other because Hermione's hands were coming to life again - it was a struggle to focus on the work in front of them. Harry tried. He really tried, but Hermione kept sneaking looks at him, only to constantly catch him already looking at her. They would exchange embarrassed smiles and then feign getting back to their work.

It happened a few times before Hermione had enough. They were being ridiculous. This whole thing; it was just ridiculous. She set her quill down and looked at him. Surprisingly, he wasn't looking at her.

"Harry," she said.

"Hmm," he sounded, scribbling the last bit of his sentence. "What's up?"

"Do you think I could talk to you?" she asked seriously. "Somewhere private."

Harry frowned, suddenly nervous. "Uh, sure," he said.

Hermione stood up and waited for him to do the same. She turned on her heel and headed further into the library, intent on finding a quiet spot where she could tell - no, _show_ \- him that she was done with all this ridiculousness.

When she found the best spot, she stepped between two bookshelves and pulled Harry's sleeve sharply enough for him to stumble to his right, bumping her in the process.

"Sorry," he automatically said.

She pulled him further away from the aisle, hiding them both. "I'm the one who should be sorry, Harry," she said.

He dusted himself off. "Uh, I'm pretty sure I'm the one who stumbled into you," he said, frowning in confusion.

She laughed. "I'm not talking about that," she said. "I'm talking about _everything else_."

His frown only increased. "I don't understand."

She smiled. "Of course you don't."

"Still don't understand, Granger."

She stepped towards him. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course. You know you can tell me anything."

"I've always been a little terrified of you," she said, her hands reaching out to touch his chest. "You've always been so _sure_ , Harry, and I'm... _not_." She dropped her gaze to her hands. "Well, I _wasn't_."

He just stared at her.

"I guess I want to tell you is that I get it now." She took a deep breath. "I'm _still_ unsure about many things, Harry," she said; "but I'm sure about you."

He blinked a few times. "Okay," he said. "Are you telling me what I think you're telling me?"

She bit at her bottom lip while she nodded slowly, trying to gauge his reaction. It was when he started to smile that wicked grin that she absolutely adored that she realised that she was holding her breath.

"Hermione," he whispered, his fingers threading a strand of loose hair behind her ear.

She took a deep breath, steeled herself, and then reached up to kiss him. It was a chaste kiss, short and sweet. Enough to make her meaning clear to him.

Harry definitely understood.

She kissed him once, twice, and then pulled back to find him smiling at her.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi back."

Harry kissed her again, just because he could. "I missed you," he whispered.

"I missed you too."

"I was always right here, you know?"

She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest, gripping his shirt in her fists and breathing him in. It felt like it'd been years since she felt this calm, this relaxed. This _peaceful_.

Harry wrapped his own arms around her, and they stood like that for close to seven minutes. Hermione was content to listen to his beating heart, allowing herself to _feel_ everything she was feeling. This was Harry. She was safe with Harry.

At a certain point, Hermione lifted her head so she could look at him. "Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"We're going to be okay, right?"

"I like to think so, yes," he told her.

"Because you're a realist?"

"Would you rather I were an optimist?"

She let out a breath. "God no."

He laughed lightly. "You really are a cynic, aren't you?"

"But a romantic one."

"Such an enigma."

She kissed his cheek.

"It's going to be different this time," he said. "It's going to be _better_ , Granger."

Hermione wanted to believe him. If she were any other person on the planet, she probably would have. But, in that moment, _she_ just _couldn't_.

"It's okay, Granger," he said, noticing her skepticism. "The best is yet to come. I promise."

* * *

It wasn't exactly a surprise when Harry and Hermione were spotted holding hands later the same day, each of them content to allow the school to think what it wanted. There would be no confirmations or denials from either one of them, though Luna did raise her eyebrows suggestively when Hermione sat with them for the Hallowe'en Feast.

"Harry," Luna said; "is she your _girlfriend_?"

Despite himself, he blushed. "Shut it, Luna."

Hermione just laughed. "Oh, Luna, please never stop being you."

"Who else would I be?" she asked innocently.

Neville just smiled at them both. "It's about time, don't you think?"

"I do," Harry and Hermione said at the same time, before they shared a smile.

"So, what do you three actually have planned for tonight?" Hermione asked.

"What makes you think we have something planned?" Luna asked.

"You weren't at breakfast," she pointed out.

Harry glanced at her. "You noticed that, did you?"

She blushed as if on command.

Luna leaned forward, her eyes on Hermione. "I'm so glad you're here," she said. "And, no, we don't have anything planned." She leaned back, smiling knowingly. Then: "Not tonight, at least."

Hermione looked at Harry. "Really? Nothing?"

He nodded. "Nothing."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Why not?"

She pouted slightly. "There you go answering my questions with questions."

"I learn from the best."

She couldn't stop herself from kissing him, pecking him quickly but not entirely discreetly. It didn't matter. She didn't care. It already _felt_ different.

Harry could feel as if she really was _his_ this time; nobody else's. She wasn't splitting her time, or trying to share herself. She was either here with him or she was with herself. As sad as that was, Harry secretly wished that he would be enough for her. Enough to cover the holes Jack, Ginny and Ron left, and make up for the oblivion that existed where her parents should. He _needed_ to be enough.

Because, well, he had a promise to keep.


	18. Call It What You Want

**Chapter Eighteen: Call It What You Want**

As far as Hallowe'en went, Harry had to admit that his sixth one at Hogwarts wasn't the _worst_. It wasn't the best either, which was mainly because of Hermione. As much as he wanted to enjoy every moment of now being with her again; he couldn't help worrying over the reasons they were now together. Sure, she opened up to him about what was going on inside of her, but he couldn't stop himself from thinking about the fact that their reunion came about from a crisis.

Fortunately or unfortunately, he wasn't given much time to dwell on it because the next day emerged from some other kind of hell, courtesy of one Severus Snape.

Harry supposed it was naive to think that the man had matured in whatever way, but he was wrong. He suspected that the Head of Slytherin just wanted to tire them out so that Gryffindor wouldn't perform as well during the first match of the Quidditch season. Though, that idea fell flat when Harry was forced to consider that even the Slytherins were involved in this _torture_.

"I don't get it," Neville said, throwing himself down onto the chair opposite Harry's.

Around the library, several heads looked up at the sound and the Hufflepuff ducked his head in embarrassment. He wasn't one to enjoy being the centre of attention and this moment was no different, despite his annoyance at their Defence professor.

"What don't you get?" Harry asked him, absently turning the page of the textbook he was reading.

"I don't get why Professor Snape's just decided that he wants to hold war games all of a sudden," he said. "Is he _trying_ to kill us?"

Harry shrugged. "I suspect it's just the opposite."

"Huh?"

Harry shifted in his seat, leaning forward slightly. He even dropped the volume of his voice. "Snape let in people who scored 'Exceeds Expectations' to his Defence class, but he wouldn't have done that if he were still teaching Potions. Why?"

Neville took a moment to think about it. "Probably because the only people he'd have in his class if he'd accepted only 'Outstanding' would be you and Jack."

Harry let out an unexpected laugh, Neville's explanation catching him off guard.

"I'm just saying."

He shook his head. "I'm trying to say that he's probably trying to _prepare_ us. Defence is more important than Potions, when it comes to going into battle. I think he realised that."

"Do you really believe that?"

Harry's features turned sympathetic. "It's not that bad," he said kindly.

"I'm going to die," he said. "Like, seriously. If I have to go up against you, Hermione _and_ Jack in the same team, then I'm definitely going to die."

Harry let out a laugh. "At least you don't have Malfoy on your team. The way he's going these days, I'm convinced he's going to end up hexing us in the back."

"What do you mean?"

Harry opened his mouth to respond but snapped it shut when he spotted Hermione, Fay, Dean and Jack headed in their direction. They were all part of Team One with Harry for the war games that Professor Snape told them about the day after Hallowe'en, shocking them all. He probably got so much satisfaction out of seeing them scramble.

Neville followed Harry's line of sight and visibly deflated. "I should go," he said, standing up. "See you at dinner?"

"Later," he said, throwing his friend a reassuring smile and a quick double thumbs-up.

Neville sighed heavily, before he started on his way away from the table. He mumbled a greeting to the approaching group and then disappeared from the library like it insulted him in some way. Before Harry could even wonder about what was really eating his friend, he was face-to-face with a group of Gryffindors, all of them looking particularly calm, given what they were about to walk into.

"Hey," Hermione said, smiling at him.

"Hey back," he replied, standing up. "What's up?"

Hermione glanced behind her at Jack. "Jack thinks that the Gryffindors should have a game plan before we go into the team meeting later."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Makes sense." He looked around for a table large enough to accommodate them all. He did _not_ want them sitting at _his_ table. "Over there?" he suggested, gesturing to a set of tables to his right.

There was collective nodding as they shifted towards the empty desks, each of them taking a seat. Hermione sat right next to Harry and pulled out a notebook and pen. Always prepared, that one.

"Not only are we going to have to go up against the other team," Hermione said; "but we actually have to survive our own first."

More nodding.

Hermione looked at Jack, expecting him to say something and, of course, he didn't disappoint.

"I think, for there to be as little conflict as possible, I shouldn't be Captain of the team," he said slowly. "And neither should Malfoy."

"Or me," Harry added.

Jack looked thoughtful. "It'll come to a vote in the end," he said. "We have five Gryffindors in our team so we should be able to win in the vote if we pick one person we'll all vote for right now." He gave Harry a significant look before he turned his attention to Hermione. "And I think the person we should pick is you, Hermione."

The witch looked surprised. "What?"

"Well, it's not going to be me," Dean said.

"And definitely not me," Fay added. "So it _has_ to be you."

"So I'm a default captain?"

"No!" Jack and Harry said in unison.

"It's not that," Harry was quick to add. "Believe me, you would be my first choice."

Dean rolled his eyes in amusement. "Seriously? Get a room."

Hermione blushed at the same time that Harry punched Dean's arm; which were both actions that drew Jack's attention. Wait. What? Since when?

"Getting back on track," Hermione said, clearing her throat. "Do you really expect _me_ to be able to keep three Slytherins in check?" she asked.

"If you can handle Jack and Ron; you can handle anyone," Dean said, only half-joking.

Jack and Hermione exchanged a significant look, even as everyone else laughed. Harry's own smile was forced and he reached for Hermione's hand under the table, squeezing tightly. He was convinced that she needed it, but it was really him who needed it. He was a hand-holder; Hermione knew that. It was one of the things she adored most about him.

She squeezed his fingers tight in return, acknowledging the contact without looking at him. "Okay," she said.

"Then it's decided," Jack said, sounding oddly relieved.

Harry glanced at his watch. "We should probably get going," he said. "Don't want to be accused of thinking we're better than being on time."

Snape was the one to schedule each team's initial meeting. It cut into Gryffindor's Quidditch practice - which was probably on purpose - so Jack and Harry were forced to cancel. It wasn't the biggest train-smash, given that they were already training every single day in preparation for their first match against Slytherin.

Harry made quick work of packing up his things, and then the five of them were headed to the empty and _charmed_ classroom Snape reserved for Team One. It was on the third floor, dangerously close to where Fluffy once resided.

Hermione glanced at the door nervously and Jack visibly shuddered. He liked to think that he'd moved on from his first meeting with Voldemort but it all just added up, didn't it? He'd never really _dealt_ with it all because he'd never really been allowed to. Voldemort was incredibly rude that way.

Dean turned right and led them down another corridor towards their destination. They were early, the first group to arrive, which allowed them to make a sweep of the room. Jack was paranoid and Harry was cautious. Hermione just let them be. Snape might have tried something, but the Slytherins might have also been by earlier to set up their own traps or something.

It was bound to be a difficult evening.

But.

Truthfully, Harry expected a fight. It just made sense that the Slytherins would fight them at every turn but they received _nothing_. Malfoy didn't even make a snide remark about Hermione's blood status, which was something that really didn't sit well with him or with Jack. It was practically Malfoy's go-to insult.

Dean was the one to bring up the captaincy and all three Slytherins just, well, _rolled_ with it. In the end, the vote wasn't even necessary. The Gryffindors exchanged significant looks with one another but they weren't going to question a good thing. Maybe Snape threatened them into cooperating or something equally spectacular.

The meeting consisted mainly of admin. Hermione had them sit down and discuss schedules, possible practice times and any battle strategies they wanted to tackle. Jack would have mentioned that he could ask his father for some pointers but that would actually require him to be speaking to James Potter and that hadn't happened in a while. If anything, he wasn't sure _why_ he wasn't talking to his father... well, other than the fact that the man was being a tool to his mother.

Harry had no such qualms and insisted that Sirius would be able to help.

Malfoy said nothing.

They managed to come to consensus that, given the number of team members involved in the upcoming Quidditch match; they would start the practical training only after the match. Harry would have kissed Hermione right there and then but he managed to stay rooted to his spot. The girl thought of everything and his sudden urge to reveal _everything_ to her was starting to get out of control.

He loved her.

He was so desperately in love with her.

Hermione made a point to note down what each member believed was their greatest strength, so she could best organize for appropriate training. It was very clear from that first meeting that Hermione Granger was taking her role very seriously. She wanted to win as much as the next person did and, with a team full of competitive people, they were bound to pull their weight.

 _Surely_.

Despite the Slytherins' relative silence, there were still a few squabbles, particularly when it came to deciding what was each member's greatest strength. Hermione knew that both Harry and Jack could have fit into any of the categories but she made an executive decision and eventually came out with a list with which she was pleased. She ended up with four different sub-teams, each with three members, which she hoped would make scheduling training sessions that bit easier.

.

 _TEAM ONE_

 _1\. Blaise Zabini (Slytherin) - **Stealth**_

 _2\. Daphne Greengrass (Slytherin) - **Strategy**_

 _3\. Dean Thomas (Gryffindor) - **Coordination/Speed**_

 _4\. Draco Malfoy (Slytherin) - **Attack/Defense**_

 _5\. Ernest Macmillan (Hufflepuff) - **Coordination/Speed**_

 _6\. Fay Dunbar (Gryffindor) - **Stealth**_

 _7\. Harry Potter (Gryffindor) - **Attack/Defense**_

 _8\. Hermione Granger (Gryffindor) - **Strategy**_

 _9\. Jack Potter (Gryffindor) - **Attack/Defense**_

 _10\. Justin Finch-Fletchley (Hufflepuff) - **Coordination/Speed**_

 _11\. Kevin Entwhistle (Ravenclaw) - **Strategy**_

 _12\. Lisa Turpin (Ravenclaw) - **Stealth**_

.

When Hermione eventually dismissed them, a few of them stayed behind to _chat_. Admittedly, Harry felt a little uncomfortable at first. It was one thing for him not to be accepted by his own House, but the other Houses hadn't been all that welcoming either, save for his two best friends. It was amazing what a little popularity could do to one's social standing.

Kevin was absently complaining about the timing of these war games, and Harry had half a mind to tell him to keep it down just in case Snape _was_ listening somehow. Was Jack's paranoia rubbing off on him?

Justin let out a long breath. "I don't know how he expects us to come up with an entire battle plan by the end of the month," he said. "It's going to be difficult enough to find time for everyone to meet, let alone actually get work done."

"I think Hermione will come up with a suitable schedule," Fay said, and Harry could hear the obvious pride in her tone. No wonder Hermione liked her.

Harry made a note to get to know her better.

Fay looked at Harry. "Are you looking forward to having to work with Jack _and_ Malfoy?" she asked, looking slightly amused.

Harry couldn't help rolling his eyes, even as he absently nudged Jack in jest. "I think I can handle them," he said, grinning. "I've handled worse. Sirius can be a real dog sometimes." He laughed at his own joke, though the others just looked confused. "Never mind," he murmured, dropping his gaze.

Conversation continued, and Jack took the opportunity to steal away to locate his once best friend. Hermione was standing off to the side, reading through the notes she'd made before, during and after the meeting. When she'd accepted the captaincy, she hadn't anticipated just how invested in their success she would feel. Maybe it was the way that Harry looked at her with wonder and fascination in his eyes that got to her. Who knew?

She definitely didn't.

"So," Jack said, sidling up to and standing closer to her than he had in quite some time. It felt both familiar and foreign to him. So many things had changed in such a short time. "You and Harry, huh?"

The movement of Hermione's hands stuttered for a moment, but she didn't stop sifting through the pages she'd compiled.

Jack pushed on through her silence. "Does he know?"

Hermione didn't dare look at him. Maybe if she ignored him; he would leave her alone.

No such luck.

"Does he know about the kiss?" he asked.

The sound of that forced Hermione to stop what she was doing and look at him. "Excuse me?"

"The kiss, Hermione," he said. "Does Harry know?"

She took a breath. "I don't know, Jack," she said carefully. "Does it _look_ like he knows?"

Jack stood up straight and glanced over his shoulder at where Harry was still standing talking to Kevin, Fay and Dean. "I realise that's a rhetorical question but I'm guessing, no, he doesn't know."

"Would you like a medal or something?"

He turned to face her properly, fighting off a sudden wave of irritation. "Are you going to tell him?"

Hermione swallowed, frowning slightly. If she was being honest; she hadn't given this topic much thought. She's practically forgotten about it. "If I haven't told him by now, do you really think I'm going to?"

Jack took a breath. "Why are you answering all my questions with questions?"

Hermione also turned her body to face him. " _Why_ are you asking all these questions?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

Hermione glared at him, her eyes narrowing. "What do you actually want, Jack?" she asked. "Do you _want_ me to tell him, because what good would that do? I mean, look at him," she said, glancing at Harry. "What do you think telling him now would do to him?"

"But - "

"But what, Jack," she said, sighing. "I managed to forget about it. I managed to push it from my mind, put it behind me, and I don't understand why you're reminding me about it." She shook her head. "Look, I don't really know what you're trying to do right now but I'm guessing that this is probably coming from a place of misplaced guilt, right? You're talking to Harry as if you want to get to know him; as if you're trying to mend fences or build bridges. Am I wrong?"

Jack didn't respond.

"I know you tried to apologise to him, which makes me think that I am right," she continued. "I don't really know what your intentions are but I wish, for both your sakes, that they're good. He's kind and he's so good and pure; and he doesn't deserve anything either of us have ever done to him. So, if you want a relationship with him, then telling him now would only ruin your chances of that ever happening. Is that what you want?"

Jack was still silent.

"Why do you want to hurt him so much?" she asked. "Don't you think you've hurt him enough?"

Jack's own eyes narrowed. "I didn't say _I_ was going to tell him, Hermione," he said slowly, pointedly. "But I think that _you_ should. It should come from you."

Hermione's top lip twitched.

Jack recognised the action as anger, but he didn't dare back down. This was important and he needed to say it. "Secrets very rarely stay secrets in this place, Hermione," he said pointedly. "Whether you like it or not; it's bound to come out at some point. And then what?" And that was all he would say about it, as he spun on his heel and returned to the small group of students that included his brother.

 _His_ _brother_.

Harry's eyes met his when he approached, a steady smile on his face, which slipped the moment that his gaze drifted past him towards Hermione. Then back to Jack. Very quickly, Harry excused himself from the group and moved past Jack towards Hermione.

"Hey," he said, stepping into her line of vision and frowning at the frown on her face. "Everything okay? Did Jack say something to you?"

She blinked. "What? Umm, no." She shook her head, clearly distracted. "Just thinking about something Greengrass said about possible strategy," she said. "Jack was actually rather informative."

"Not usually an adjective used to describe Jack Potter," he murmured, making her smile. "You sure you're okay?"

She nodded. "I think so."

He pulled her into his arms, squeezing her tight for the longest moment.

Hermione couldn't help the sudden wave of guilt that fell over her, which only multiplied when she locked eyes with Jack over Harry's shoulder. He was right of course. Hermione had to tell Harry.

It was just that the kiss - which couldn't really be classified as a kiss - was something that Hermione legitimately managed to forget about until Jack brought it up. Maybe her subconscious mind pushed it into its darkest recesses, hoping to never actively have to think about it again.

But.

Harry squeezed her once before he released her, smiling that lopsided grin that stole the breath straight out of her lungs. "Let's go plot to kill some Slytherins," he said cheekily, and then turned away, blindly reaching for her hand and pulling her along.

Hermione allowed herself to be led, even though _she_ was supposed to be the team captain.

She would tell him. Of course she would.

Just... in her own time.

* * *

"It was too easy."

Harry couldn't hold back his yawn as he looked up at his brother, feeling smaller all of a sudden. The Common Room was practically empty for this Sunday afternoon, but that was probably because the sun was blessing them with an extended appearance. Like the rest of the Castle, Harry was fully prepared to enjoy it. He was just waiting for Hermione to descend from her dormitory, so they could go on a 'walk' that would probably double as a 'find-a-quiet-spot-and-make-out.'

Better get the yawns out of the way right now.

Even so, Harry couldn't help finding the number of times Jack initiated conversation just in the last few weeks a little alarming. Harry'd run out of fingers ages ago but he was trying not to read too much into it. He'd only end up disappointed.

Without seeking permission - or approval - Jack plopped himself down on the couch beside Harry, looking particularly distracted by something. "It was just too damn easy," he repeated, shaking his head in the process.

Most of their conversations consisted of Jack muttering things and Harry having to struggle to understand, asking questions that sounded painful even to his own years. "Uh, what was too easy?" he asked anyway, shifting slightly to look at him. He had time to kill anyway.

Jack looked at him. "Catching the Snitch."

Harry frowned. "We beat Slytherin, Jack. Why are you complaining?"

"I'm not complaining," he said defensively. "I just - I don't know. Something didn't _feel_ right." Jack wanted to think that maybe Harry would understand this part, at least. Despite their differences, they _had_ faced off against some dangerous things _together_. _Feelings_ were generally considered to mean something important in their _line of work_.

Harry automatically sat up straight, deciding to take Jack seriously. Goodness only knew how many other people actually did at this point. Voldemort was still a sour topic when it came to the Castle as a whole, though Jack wasn't singing about it anymore. After the slander he'd undergone, he'd shut up about it. Perhaps the Order spoke to him, warned him, or instructed him to keep under the radar. Without Voldemort out in the open, there was less panic.

Whatever the reasons were, Harry didn't like it.

"About what?" Harry asked.

"Malfoy."

Harry took a moment to recall the match, trying to figure out if there was any merit in Jack's _feeling_. If he was being honest, he couldn't really remember much or anything to do with Malfoy, and the match had been the day before. _That_ was odd. Malfoy usually made sure to do something memorable: before, during _and_ after.

"It's not just the match," Jack added. "He's been rather... quiet."

Harry blinked. "Quiet?"

"Subdued," Jack added. "Distracted, like his focus has been elsewhere, on something _else_... Just, quiet. There's really no other word for it."

"Didn't he and Parkinson just start dating?" Harry offered as a potential explanation.

"It's more than that," he said. "Over the years, he's actively sought me out, to goat me, to boast and gloat. My parents are literally getting _divorced_ and Malfoy says _nothing_. There's definitely something going on with him. Tell me you haven't noticed."

If Harry really thought about it, he would be forced to admit that some of what Jack was saying did make sense, especially after their first meeting for the war games. "Well," he said; "I did find it odd that Malfoy didn't come and find me on the Hogwarts' Express at the beginning of the year. He usually pays me a visit, like clockwork."

Jack nodded in agreement. "Exactly," he said, just glad that Harry wasn't telling him he was paranoid. Ron had, and he imagined that others would as well. Like, he was looking for trouble just because it hadn't yet found him.

"Though, that could be for any number of reasons," Harry said, dashing Jack's hopes. "Are you suggesting that Malfoy is... quiet, because of something sinister?"

Jack was hesitant to nod. It really could just be that he was seeing something that wasn't there, given that they _had_ survived an entire school year without coming face-to-face with Voldemort. He'd also considered that the emotional trauma of his parents' impending divorce and his current friendship situation could be manifesting in different ways.

But no. He was sure about this.

"I think that if we're old enough to join the Order, then Malfoy is definitely old enough to become a Death Eater."

Harry leaned back. "They're letting you join the Order?" he asked, clearly surprised. Sure, he'd discussed possibly helping with the resistance with his mother, but there was no mention of becoming a member of the Order.

Of which James was a part.

Well, even his mother wasn't an active member of the Order, though Sirius more than made up for her lack of active participation. Was that the reason? He couldn't join because she wasn't a member?

"Not exactly," Jack said, dropping his gaze. "Ideally, they'd like to wait until I'm done with school or turn seventeen first, but I think they have the sneaking suspicion that Voldemort won't wait that long."

"How inconsiderate of him," Harry muttered good-naturedly.

Jack smiled in amusement.

"Look, I'm not saying that there's nothing to be seen," Harry assured him; "I just think that the explanation _could be_ something innocuous and it wouldn't do to go stirring up attention when it could be something perfectly easy to explain."

Jack nodded in agreement, accepting Harry's explanation. "Like what?"

"Malfoy Senior could have let rip into him enough to leave emotional scarring even months later," Harry suggested.

"Completely plausible," Jack agreed, thinking about his own father. "We'll have to do some research to be sure."

Harry frowned. "We?"

Jack seemed to catch himself. "I mean, _we_ , as in me and, uh, Ron," he stumbled through, flushing brilliantly. "Well, when he's not attached to Emily's lips, that is."

Harry let out a laugh, saving them from their - well, Jack's - fumble. "Now, _that_ was unexpected," he said. "And right in front of everyone like that. I prefer private moments myself. It's why me and - " he stopped suddenly.

Jack just about managed a smile, fighting off the sudden feeling of being _left out_. Harry had Hermione and now Ron had Emily, though he was still surprised by the lack of jealousy. It was the misplaced guilt that Hermione suggested that was knocking him down. "Don't forget," he said, somewhat cheekily. "Talk of Granger is off limits."

Harry breathed out, feeling a little lost. "Uh, yeah."

Jack's eyes drifted away from him, tensing as if he'd been caught doing something wrong. "Speaking of."

"Hmm?"

Jack jerked his head to the side, and Harry's gaze followed the movement until they settled on one Hermione Jean Granger. She was standing at the foot of the stairs, looking equal parts curious and apprehensive. It was an expression she was wearing lately, particularly when it came to him and Jack.

Still, Harry automatically smiled at the sight of her as he was wont to do whenever he laid eyes on her.

Truthfully, he'd been worried the night before. After Emily made it onto the team, it was only expected that general romantic interest in her would grow. Her spectacular showing during the match against Slytherin just multiplied that, exponentially and dramatically. If anyone would have asked Harry, he definitely wouldn't have put Ronald Weasley on _that_ particular list of potential suitors. But, alas, Gryffindor's newest couple - at least, Harry thought they were now a couple - was now the talk of the Tower. The Castle.

He'd braved asking her about it after the spectacle that was Ron and Emily's first kiss in the Common Room, but she seemed perfectly fine. In fact, she informed him that she was more than fine, stating that if Ron could feel even half of the happiness she was feeling with Harry in that moment, then Ron was a lucky guy. It made him blush, but not nearly as much as he did when her mouth did other things than talk for the next breathless hour, as if she were intent on proving her very words to him.

"Oh, the questions you shall face," Jack practically sang as he stood up, bringing Harry back to the present. "Good luck, Potter," he called over his shoulder, and then he walked away, leaving the couple alone.

Harry was rooted to the spot. Did Jack - did he just call him 'Potter?'

It took a moment for Hermione to move to take the spot Jack just vacated, scooting in closer than her ex-best friend. Harry looked a little shell-shocked but she was buoyed by his colouring. Those cheeks were still a normal shade of pink as opposed to the sickly pale he was wont to sporting from time to time when his body just couldn't compute what was happening around him.

As Jack predicted, Hermione had a ton of questions for Harry, which he tried his best to answer as they finally did take their walk that actually turned out to be just a _walk_. He told her of Jack's worries about Malfoy and mentioned his own observations. She told him that Malfoy did also seem subdued in their Prefects' meetings, though that could be because of something unrelated to Voldemort.

They'd have to keep a closer eye on him during their Team One training.

"I'm thinking maybe it's because of his father," Harry said, tugging lightly on her hand to bring her closer into his side. "That man really is a nasty piece of work."

Hermione slowed her pace, visibly thinking.

"What is it?" he asked, his gaze drifting from the school grounds to her face. She was much more beautiful anyway. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing is _wrong_ ," she said. "It's just - I don't know, I was just thinking about all the people I actually _know_ in this place."

"Yeah?"

"The only ones who come from an active, loving home with _both_ parents are probably the Weasleys."

He took a moment to think about it. Even Dean had problems living up to expectations in his Muggle household, and Seamus' mixed parentage made it difficult for him as well, though the boy seemed happy enough. Still. It was something to think about.

At his silence, Hermione burrowed into his side that bit more, soaking up the warmth of him. "How sad is that?"

* * *

The very next Seeker practice for Jack and Harry included an in-depth discussion on none other than Draco Malfoy himself, particularly after their first sub-team training with just the three of them. Apparently, Granger was a no for conversation but Malfoy was a definite yes.

As he said he would, Jack had tried to keep an eye on Malfoy, following him when he could and keeping tabs on him using the Marauder's Map that he sometimes looked embarrassed to mention to Harry, now that they weren't actively trying to kill each other. The younger brother sometimes wanted to tell Jack about the Mosstroopers' Map, but he reasoned that would be revealing too much.

Also, he first had to discuss it with his fellow Mosstroopers.

"Ron and I are going to follow him tonight," Jack said, landing his broom on the grass of the Quidditch pitch rather expertly.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Tonight?"

Jack blinked, suddenly worried that he was missing something important. It'd been known to happen, given his magnetism to detentions and the Infirmary. But he was definitely doing better this year. "What? What?"

Harry laughed out loud, touching down as well. He dismounted with practiced ease and held his broom upright. "Well, it's my understanding that tonight is one of the Slug Club's most auspicious get-togethers."

Jack slapped his forehead with his palm. "That's tonight?"

"Somehow, you've managed to miss the last two dinners, but Professor Slughorn personally checked your schedule," he said. "I'm convinced he'll come and find you himself if you don't show up tonight."

Jack let out a defeated sigh. "I guess I can't exactly miss another one," he said. "Dumbledore kind of asked me to - " he stopped suddenly, dropping his gaze. "Never mind. Just, I should probably go tonight."

Harry just nodded, choosing not to question him.

Jack ran a hand through his damp hair, moving them along. "Who's in this Slug Club again?" he asked as he started them walking towards the broom shed. "Besides you, of course." Then: "Why are _you_ in the Club?"

Harry glared at him.

"No offence," he added quickly, cringing slightly. "I'm just asking, you know. Out of interest's sake."

Harry huffed. "I'd like to say it's because I'm second in our year, but it's probably more to do with the fact that I'm _your_ brother, and my mum is Lily Evans."

"And I'm in it because I'm the Boy-Who-Lived?"

Harry smirked. "Well, it's definitely not because of your grades."

Jack faked a laugh and attempted to trip Harry with his broom, which the boy just hopped over. "Aren't you a comedian?"

"I try," he said smugly, before jogging the last few metres to drop off his broom in the shed. It wasn't lost on him that Jack set his broom down right next to his. They were actually the same broom, just different models.

Jack was the reason that Harry's broom was a newer one.

"Who else?" Jack asked.

"Uh," Harry stuttered, trying to remember. "Granger."

Jack merely nodded. "As expected."

"Zabini's in it because of his mother."

"She's a frightening woman."

"Um, there's McLaggen," he said, trying and failing to keep the spite out of his voice.

Jack looked at him. "Whoa, what happened there?"

"We've had words," he forced out through gritted teeth.

"About?"

"Quidditch, I guess."

Jack shrugged. "Just ignore him," he said. "I do."

"If he's anything like you; ignoring him will amount to nothing," Harry said, which shut them both up for a long minute. Harry was the first to grow uncomfortable with the silence, which prompted him to resume conversation as they reached the Castle. "So, uh, there's also Flora and Hestia Carrow, but I sure as hell don't know why they're there."

"Why is McLaggen?"

"His uncle is supposedly connected to the Ministry or something along those lines," he answered with a shrug. "There's also Melinda Bobbins. Apparently, her family owns a chain of apothecaries."

"Quite the collection he's got for himself," Jack commented somewhat darkly.

"I'm not done," Harry said. "There's also Luna, who he just seems to find fascinating, though there are probably elements of the Quibbler in there as well. And there's - " he paused.

Jack looked at him. "Who?"

"Well, there's Ginny."

Jack actually missed a step at the sound of her name and he stumbled slightly, a blush taking over his face. "Ginny," he echoed. "Is she even allowed to be in it, seeing as you are?" he asked, recovering.

"The protection order doesn't cover legitimate school functions," he said carefully. "Dumbledore signed off on the Slug Club's dinners being _legitimate_." He ran a hand through his hair. "She doesn't talk, so it doesn't bother me as much as it should."

"She doesn't talk to you, you mean?"

He shook his head. "No, I mean, she doesn't talk. At all. To anyone. Not really. Only when Slughorn asks her a direct question."

Jack frowned. "But - " Then: "Why is she in the Club then?"

"Granger tells me it's because she's supposed to be popular, _and_ she caught Slughorn's attention when she cast a Bat-Bogey Hex. It's quite impressive, really."

"I know," Jack said, his voice low. "I taught her how. Last year, when we were still, you know... I taught her how to cast it."

"You _taught_ her?" Harry asked, needing clarification.

He nodded sheepishly. "I was worried."

"About?"

"About what would happen to her if Voldemort ever decided to use her against me," he said. "I worried about Ron and Hermione and Olivia. I still worry about them. All the time, actually."

Harry dropped his gaze. "And I guess Malfoy acting like a creeper doesn't really help?"

"No, it doesn't."

"At least we can keep an eye on him through our training for the games," he said, trying to ease the frown on his brother's face. "Though I'm not really looking forward to being in a confined space with him again on Thursday. Our first group meeting was tough enough."

Jack shook his head. "It's not enough."

Harry could hear _something_ in his voice. "You're really worried, aren't you?"

"I'm more concerned that you're not," he said.

"What makes you think that I'm not worried?" he asked. "I'm just doing a better job of not obsessing over it."

Jack's eyes snapped towards him. "Do you think I'm obsessing?"

Harry's features softened. He didn't think he had a right to judge. It had to be difficult being the one person that a crazy Dark Lord was after. "Not exactly," he said. "All I know is that whatever Malfoy's up to; it's not happening tonight."

"How can you be so sure of that?"

"If it were, he would have acted like a pompous ass the entire day."

Jack had to concede to that.

"And plus, I kind of have other things to obsess about at the moment," Harry admitted, braving bringing up his girlfriend and Jack's ex-best friend. It was a testament to how comfortable he now felt with Jack that he would even consider trying it.

Jack nodded in understanding, fighting off that guilty feeling once more. For what felt like the hundredth time in just the last few days; he was hit by the urge to tell Harry about the kiss that should never have been.

Looking back at it, he now knew why he'd done it. It hadn't been about feelings he had towards Hermione. It'd been about his fear of losing her. It had made him act irrationally; made him _do_ things that eventually resulted in the end of his relationship with her. In his attempts to hold on for dear life; he'd ended up getting the one thing he was so terrified of: a life without Hermione Granger.

Harry looked happy. So did Hermione.

It should be enough.

It should.

Jack continued to wrestle with the conflicting ideas as he begrudgingly got ready for this dinner that he didn't even want to go to. It was just, well, he didn't think _he_ could be happy if he didn't tell Harry. Was it selfish of him? If their roles were reversed, would he want to know? Would he want to know that his brother had kissed his girlfriend? It was all just a mess.

And whatever he decided to do would only make it messier.

"Is that really what you're wearing?"

Jack looked up from his brooding to spy Harry just walking into the dormitory, freshly showered and dressed with his toiletry bag held against his chest. Jack looked down at his own clothing, frowning at his slacks and grey shirt. "What's wrong with this?" he asked.

Harry tilted his head to the side. "You're clearly not trying to impress anyone, are you?"

Jack let out a surprised laugh. "No, I'm not."

"Are you _trying_ to turn them off then?"

"Shut up," he quipped.

Harry just laughed as he moved towards his bed, a certain spring in his step. Jack smiled for just a moment, before it slipped off his face. There was a spring in his step that Jack had the power to take away.

Or enhance.

The truth could be enlightening, for all he knew, but was Jack willing to risk it?

Once Harry stored his things, he bid Jack goodbye and headed downstairs to the Common Room to wait for Hermione. He checked his watch as he searched for a spot to give him the clearest view of the girls' staircase for when his beautiful girlfriend eventually emerged. As punctual as she usually was; there was a side to her that liked to take her time when getting ready for social gatherings.

He was continually forced to remind her that this wasn't a date, and she always had to remind him that she was hoping to make connections. If Slughorn was going to use them, then she had the intention of using him back. She could be a devious little mastermind when she wanted to be. It was one of the reasons that she was the perfect captain for their team.

A team that he was sure would end up killing each other before they ever made it to the actual battle.

Hermione _tried_ her best to ease the transition by dividing them into their four sub-teams, but their first meetings hadn't exactly gone to plan. Harry, Jack and Malfoy were always going to make for a tense situation. They'd barely got anything done and, from what Harry heard from the other teams, their meetings hadn't fared that much better. Which was something that Harry found _odd_.

Hermione reasoned that it was probably best to train all together, just all of them in one room, even if they stayed in their various groups. Just to keep an eye on one another so nobody really felt the need to act up. She then proceeded to mutter something about them acting like children, which had Harry and Luna snickering like the children they really were.

"Stop frowning," Hermione said, forcing Harry to look up. "I'm not even that late."

Harry automatically smiled as he stood up. She wasn't even _a little_ late but the punctuality in both of them did make it feel _later_ than normal. "I didn't even say anything."

"You didn't have to."

He looked her up and down as she approached. "Hey, you," he said, reaching out for her. "You look pretty."

She blushed as if on command and stepped into his embrace. "It's not too much, is it?" she asked, her voice muffled by his jacket. "Luna enjoys dressing me up a little too much sometimes."

" _I'm_ definitely not complaining."

She giggled softly and released him so she could look at his face. He really was very handsome. "You cleaned up quite nicely yourself," she told him, fighting off one of those niggling feelings that she didn't deserve him.

He puffed out his chest and lifted his chin. "I did, didn't I?"

Hermione couldn't resist kissing him, her left hand automatically lifting to run through his hair, holding him to her; not wanting him to drift away. She needed him close; she needed him _here_.

Despite her intentions, Harry pulled away first. "Hmm," he murmured; "what did I do to deserve that?"

"Nothing," she told him. "Just, you know, thank you."

"For what?"

"For being you."

He kissed her once more before they started on their way towards Slughorn's office for the third Slug Club dinner of the term. He held her hand in his, their fingers entwined in the way that made Harry believe their hands were built to hold each other.

"Who do you think Professor Slughorn invited to tonight's dinner?" Hermione asked him.

"I remember him mentioning a Potions Master, but I'm not too sure," he replied. "Could be anyone."

"I hope it isn't just _anyone_ ," she said.

Harry squeezed her fingers. "I do know that Jack is coming, which means that Slughorn is going to be particularly _much_ tonight."

Hermione glanced at him. "He is?"

"Last time I checked, yes," he said. "Though, he might yet skip out, seeing as he's on a mission to find out what's up with Malfoy."

Hermione looked thoughtful. "And _tonight_ would be the night for him to try something, given that the lot of us are going to be disposed," she told him. "Unless - "

"Unless what?"

"Unless he has Ron on it."

He nodded in agreement. "Perhaps." Then: "It really seems to be worrying him."

"Then maybe this dinner will be a welcome distraction," she offered, which really just made Harry give her a significant look. A beat later, they both burst out laughing. "Never mind," she said through her laughter.

Professor Slughorn was already in quite a state when the young couple arrived, which was his normal state of being so neither Gryffindor was worried. In fact, they were both rather amused.

"Evening, Professor," Hermione said, smiling at him.

"Oh, Miss Granger," Slughorn said, stilling his movements and looking particularly frazzled. "And Mr Potter. Please, come sit. Make yourself comfortable. The others should be here shortly."

Hermione would have offered to help but Slughorn took off again and Luna arrived to distract Harry.

"Come on," Luna said, tugging on his hand. "I have to tell you something."

"About?"

"You have to be sitting down for it," she said, and he willingly followed her towards the large, round table. She pulled him down into the seat next to her, and Hermione moved to sit on his other side.

"Do I get to hear it too?" Hermione asked Luna.

"Of course," the blonde witch said. "Harry's bound to tell you eventually. You two tell each other everything."

Harry grinned at the same time that Hermione dropped her gaze, her face falling. It was a good thing that Harry wasn't looking at her, though Luna definitely was, which was something she filed away for another time.

Luna was talking to Harry right now anyway. "So, I may or may not have done a thing," she said, glancing over her shoulder. "To McLaggen."

Harry perked up, his eyes widening. "What did you do, oh dear deviant one?"

"Well, when you mentioned he was giving you a problem about his not making the Quidditch team, I had an idea," she continued, her eyes practically twinkling. "He _really_ loves the way he looks, doesn't he?"

"Miss Lovegood, what did you do?"

"I may or may not have _altered_ the way he looks," she said. "Colourful hair, colourful eyes... I even got his eyebrows." She grinned at him. "But, the best part is that he can't even tell. When he looks in the mirror, he just looks normal."

Harry let out an unexpected laugh. "Are you serious?" he asked, his eyes widening.

She nodded. "Do you love me or what?"

"Or what," he murmured, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. "You are definitely my favourite witch in Ravenclaw right now."

She raised her eyebrows. "Right now?"

He shrugged. "I don't know; Lisa's kind of growing on me."

Luna was about to respond when there was a collective gasp heard, making their heads turn towards where McLaggen was just entering.

"Oh boy," Hermione murmured, hiding her giggle behind her hand.

But her reaction was nothing compared to Slughorn's, who practically tripped over himself at the sight of Cormac McLaggen. If he'd actually been holding the tray of drinks he had suspended with his wand, it probably would have hit the deck.

"Mr McLaggen," Slughorn said; "what in heaven's name happened to you?"

"Excuse me, Sir?"

The snickering only increased, and Harry had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from bursting out laughing.

Slughorn reasoned that the boy must know what he looked like if he seemed so calm about it, so he let it be. Children should be allowed to express themselves, surely. Though, he suspected there was something written in the school rules about a student's exterior appearance _when in uniform_. And McLaggen was not in his uniform right now.

"Please, have a seat," Slughorn said, shaking his head. "Our guest should be arriving shortly."

Instead of the supposed guest they were expecting, the door was next opened by Jack Potter, his entrance silencing the small group, McLaggen temporarily forgotten. Jack looked around, suddenly feeling out of place and decidedly awkward. He hated these kinds of things, and it was clear to see from his facial expression.

Taking pity on him, Harry stood up. "Jack," he said. "Come and sit. We don't bite."

Luna giggled. "Speak for yourself," she said under her breath.

Jack glanced over his shoulder for a brief moment, before he shuffled towards the other side of the table, where Hermione, Harry and Luna were sitting next to one another. He had a quick debate with himself, before settling down next to Luna. He suspected that he'd have a truly silent evening if he were to sit down next to Hermione because he doubted she forgot about the last thing they spoke about.

Jack definitely hadn't, and he doubted he ever would.

"Hello," Luna said, turning her head to look at him. It was a polite greeting, though it was layered with distrust and apprehension. Harry might have blinders on when it came to the brother he wouldn't admit he _wanted_ , but Luna was making sure to see things clearly. She'd missed it before, and she wasn't going to make the same mistake. Jack Potter couldn't be trusted.

"Uh, hi," Jack mumbled, shifting in his seat at her scrutiny. He looked past her at Harry, who was smiling at him in a way that he'd never seen before. Maybe he found Jack's discomfort amusing, and now he'd let loose this little pixie-girl on him.

Maybe he'd take Hermione's silence after all.

Jack looked across the table and his eyes practically bugged out of his head at the sight of McLaggen. "What the - " he sputtered.

Luna followed his gaze. "It's neat, isn't it?"

Before he could reply, Slughorn was speaking. "Oh, there he is," he suddenly said, getting their attention as a small, stout and bespectacled man shuffled into the room. "Students, students, please, allow me to introduce one of my former students and acclaimed author, Eldred Worple."

As if on cue, the students all stood to participate in the formality of greetings and introductions. Worple practically started to salivate when he was introduced to Jack Potter, and the man made sure to seat himself right next to the Boy-Who-Lived. He barely noticed the other students, though he did raise his eyebrows at the sight of a colourful McLaggen.

As host, Slughorn was the last to take his seat after studying the one empty seat at the table with scrutiny.

"Do you think she's not coming?" Hermione whispered to Harry.

"Who?"

"Ginny," she whispered.

Harry had a nasty comment sitting at the tip of his tongue, but he held it. "How would I know, Granger?" he asked pointedly.

She pressed her lips together in thought, irritated with her own worry. Not that she was paying attention or anything, but Ginny hadn't really been herself since that whole debacle with Eddie Carmichael, even though Hermione was sure that the redhead didn't remember much about it. Hermione didn't want to worry, but she couldn't help it. It was part of who she was, and the fact that they were no longer friends didn't change that. Even if she wanted it to.

Ginny didn't end up coming to the dinner, though only Slughorn and Hermione paid any attention to it.

In the end, Eldred Worple spent most of the evening trying to get Jack to agree for him to write his biography. Apparently, the man found the young man _very interesting_ , and Luna had to save him from the probing questions a countless number of times, pretending that she needed to talk to him.

Really, she just kept telling him that she had her eye on him; that she'd personally see to his demise if he so much as laid another hand on Harry Potter. She told him that she'd make it look like an accident; that she was done sitting idly by and letting Harry's nobility dictate the action she would take if her best friend ever got hurt in such a disgraceful way again.

Jack could only marvel at the fire burning in her eyes whenever she spoke about Harry, and he found himself feeling envious... not for the first time lately. For years, he'd believed that Harry wanted _his_ life, but it'd never occurred to him that the roles would ever be so reversed.

Who would've guessed?

By the time Slughorn called an end to the _torture_ , Jack had told Worple he wasn't interested in a biography some fifty times but he had a sneaking suspicion that the man would definitely bring it up again. He just didn't seem to know when to stop. It was probably one of the traits that made him so successful in his job.

"Hey, Luna," Harry said, and both Luna and Jack turned to look at him. "Uh," he murmured, surprised by their mutual attention. "Hermione and I are going to take a walk before curfew - are you going to join us?"

Luna laughed. "Tell me, Harry, do you actually _want_ me to?"

He grinned at her, his blush turning his cheeks pink. "I don't want you to walk alone," he said. "We can drop you off first."

"That's fine," she said. "Jack will walk with me, won't you?" She turned to look at Jack, and he could do was nod. He was sure that she just wanted the opportunity to reaffirm what she'd spewing to him all night: mess with Harry or die. Simple.

Harry looked at Jack. "Would you?"

Jack nodded.

"Awesome," he said, moving to kiss Luna's cheek. "Goodnight, you," he said; "and thank you for McLaggen. You totally made my night."

Jack looked at her. "That was actually you?"

She shrugged. "I told you I wasn't to be messed with."

He merely nodded, before mumbling his own goodnight to both Harry and Hermione as they stood to leave. He watched them go, his eyes lingering on their joined hands. The guilt was eating away at him and he knew it wouldn't go away until he decided to do _something_. But what? What were his options? Tell him and possibly mess things up, or don't tell him and face the truth coming out in some other way?

A throat clearing at his side forced him to turn to look and find Luna looking at him curiously. "Who are you looking at?" she asked, frowning slightly. "Harry or Hermione?"

He sighed heavily. "Neither," he said. "Both. I don't know."

"Something on your mind, Potter?"

"You could say that."

"Harry's a good listener," she said; "if you didn't already know."

"I _do_ know," he murmured. "I just - what I need to tell him isn't easy. It's not good either."

Luna took a deep breath. "Will it hurt him?"

"Possibly," he admitted.

"But you believe he needs to know?"

Jack nodded, feeling torn.

"Then you're going to have to tell him, aren't you?"

Jack wanted to argue - somehow make a case for himself - but the strange little witch was only telling him all he already knew, and he hadn't even asked for it. "It's going to change things," he said quietly.

"Hasn't it already?"

And Jack knew the truth of that. "Won't you murder me in my sleep or something?" he asked, glancing at her.

"You seem reluctant," she said, absently rising to her feet. "So I'm reserving judgment."

"What did I do to deserve such kindness?" he asked, also standing up.

"Are you questioning my generosity?"

"Never," he was quick to say.

"That's what I thought."

Unknowingly, Luna gave Jack the permission he wasn't even sure he was seeking. He would tell Harry. He made the decision as he walked Luna to the Ravenclaw Common Room. It was the right thing to do, and Jack was now about doing the right thing.

Which was why, the very next day, he made the effort to get Harry alone so they could _talk_. He felt awkward and forced but this was important. Harry needed to know and, if Hermione wasn't going to tell him, Jack would. He deserved to know. He _had_ to know.

Jack managed to find him in the Common Room moments after classes let out, lounging on the couch opposite the fireplace. He reasoned that he had a few minutes before the room was bombarded with students rushing to drop off their things in the dormitories before eventually taking the Castle by storm.

"Hey," Jack said, sitting down next to his brother. "Got a minute?"

Harry merely nodded as he closed the book in his lap and gave Jack his full attention. "What's up?" he asked, thinking that this conversation was bound to be about Quidditch, the war games or even Malfoy.

But he was wrong.

 _So_ very wrong.

It started out simple enough, and Harry listened as carefully as he could right until the moment Jack said the all-important words that both boys were suddenly sure were going to change everything. There was no going back now.

It was said.

"I kissed Hermione."

 _Oh_.


	19. Please Don't Say You Love Me

**Chapter Nineteen: Please Don't Say You Love Me**

"Oh."

Whatever Jack was expecting, that wasn't it.

"Thank you for telling me," Harry said, his voice steady and undeterred. He didn't sound as if what he'd just been told bothered him. Because it did. It skewed everything he thought he knew about his relationships both with Jack and with Hermione. It was strange and odd, which were both feelings Harry didn't particularly like.

Jack just watched in silence as Harry nodded his head once, stood up and then disappeared out of the Common Room. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to be feeling in that moment but, whatever it was, it was potent. There was a substantial amount of relief, yes, but also a lot of _something else_. He felt lighter somehow, as if a deep, dark secret of his was now gone, and he didn't feel as burdened. He was convinced he did the right thing, for _all_ of them.

But.

Harry'd looked surprised, yes, but there was something else; something Jack couldn't quite figure out. It was unsettling and, yes, he was worried that he'd ruined any chance of a meaningful relationship with his brother.

 _His brother_.

Jack was still sitting on the couch when Harry returned after what felt like five seconds but was probably exponentially longer. The Common Room was no longer empty of students, and any exchange between the two Potters would be talked about for days to come. Which was probably the reason why Harry just continued walking towards the stairs and up to the boys' shared dormitory.

Jack followed.

Harry looked as lost as he had when he'd left and Jack's own resolve faltered. They both stood, Harry near his bed and Jack stranded in the middle of the room as the truth of Jack's confession hung over them.

"Harry," Jack eventually said, hating the silence.

The boy put out a hand to quiet the older Potter. "I don't get it," he said, frowning. "Why?"

Jack matched his frown. "Why?"

"Why did you do it?"

"Why did I do what?"

"Why did you kiss her?" he asked, clearly confused. "Do you like her? Do you _still_ like her? Is that it?" He stepped towards Jack. "I mean, why did you even tell me? What did you expect to happen? Did you want us to break up? Because that's not going to happen, Jack. It won't."

"I never - "

"You never what?" Harry asked, cutting him off. "Tell me, do you still like her?" he asked.

Jack just stared at him.

"Because I _love_ her," he said a beat later. "I love her, and there's nothing you can say or do to change that, do you hear me? You tried once before and it almost worked. I almost missed out on the wonder that is Hermione Granger, but it's not going to happen this time. I won't let it."

"Harry - "

"No!" he snapped. "I don't - why would - "

Jack looked pained.

"I thought we were doing better," he finally said, sounding defeated. "I don't believe you did this without _knowing_ it would hurt me."

"We are - we _were_ doing better," Jack rushed. "I _want_ us to do better. I want us to be _friends_ , Harry, but there was no way we could have done that the proper way with this hanging over us."

Harry let out a cackle of laughter that made Jack take a step back. "Over _us_?" he asked incredulously. "It was hanging over _you_ , and you just couldn't deal with it, could you? We could have gone our entire lives without this _ever_ coming up."

"You don't honestly believe that, do you?"

Harry just glared at him.

"Would you rather I not have told you?"

"I'd rather you not have kissed my girlfriend, but here we are."

They stared at each other for the longest time, eyes narrow and breathing heavy. Surprisingly, it was Harry who gave in first, visibly deflating. He was disappointed in himself for allowing himself to believe that he could really ever be _over it_. Everything _now_ couldn't ever erase everything _before_. He was so stupid. _So_ stupid.

"Harry," Jack said, his voice low.

Harry stood up straight, steeling himself. He didn't want this; he didn't want any part of this. "I'm done," he said, his voice still and steady. "We're not brothers, Jack. We're not even friends."

Jack felt like he'd been knocked hard in the chest, the sound of Harry's words winding him. "Oh."

Harry opened his mouth to say something more but thought better of it. _Oh_ was right. Without a word more - enough had been said anyway - he turned on his heel, away from Jack, signalling the end of this unwanted conversation, and all Jack could do was just watch him.

No. This couldn't be it.

"Harry," he croaked.

The younger Potter turned back, his eyes burning. There was anger, hurt, confusion. Determination.

"I'm sorry," Jack said. "For now, and for before. I just, I needed you to know, before - " he stopped suddenly. "Look, I know it means nothing now, but I never wanted to hurt you."

Harry grit his teeth. "It doesn't matter what you _wanted_ , Jack," he said slowly; "because it hurts all the same." And then he did turn away - for good, this time - and sat down on the edge of his bed, leaving Jack to wonder how he'd managed to mess this all up so royally. Hermione'd warned him; she'd _told_ him this wasn't a good idea.

Oh shit.

Hermione.

Contemplating whether it was a good idea to leave Harry, Jack jerked into action a moment later and took off towards the library. He needed to tell her before Harry got the chance to. He had to prepare her; warn her the way she'd _tried_ to. Even as he ran, he couldn't help finding it comforting that he would be able to find her in the library when he went looking. At least _that_ hadn't changed.

Once he was in the library, he had to search for her. He had to go deep into the library - deeper than he'd ever gone when not trying to get into the Restricted Section - until he spotted her. She looked so serious, her brow furrowed in concentration as she studied the text in front of her. He was hit by the sudden feeling that he missed her. Desperately.

No. He was here for a reason. A _horrible_ reason.

"Hey," Jack said, getting Hermione's attention.

Hermione startled at the sound of his voice and looked up in surprise. And, just from the look on his face, she immediately tensed. "What did you do?" she asked, standing up in one swift movement as if someone had electrocuted her. "Jack," she pressed. "What did you do?"

Jack shook his head. "You should talk to Harry," he said. "I - " he stopped. "I had to tell him, Hermione. I _had_ to."

Hermione blinked, sure that she didn't hear what she just did. "But - "

"I'm sorry," he said.

That sparked her anger, no twitching lip as a warning. "You're _sorry_? Do you even know what you've done?"

All Jack could do was stare at her.

"I don't - I don't understand."

Jack said nothing, which seemed to ignite a fire within Hermione.

"You think you're so high and mighty that you did this thing for Harry, but you really did this for _yourself_ ," she said, her voice rising. "I mean, who do you think you are? You've known him _five_ seconds and you suddenly think that _you_ owe him the truth."

"Somebody did," he countered, his own voice rising.

"Are you so misguided that you thought that that person had to be _you_?" she snapped. "Seriously?" She looked at him in disbelief, forcing down her impending panic. " _I_ was going to tell him. _Me_. Not you, Jack. _Not you_."

Harry knew. Shit, Harry _knew_.

"This thing you've done - whatever your intentions... dammit, Jack, it should _never_ have come from you. How could you not see that?"

Jack didn't know what to say.

"Look in the mirror, Jack," she said, frowning so heavily that she was almost unrecognisable. "Do you know who you'll see, Jack? Do you? You'll see James Potter." She didn't say it to be hurtful - she was merely telling the truth, even though she knew it would wound him. He and Harry shared that fear. Maybe this comparison would set Jack straight. Maybe it would help him break free from the man that was so entrained in him; _he_ didn't even know who he was. "Call it what you want, but this had nothing to do with Harry, and everything to do with you."

With that, Hermione started to pack up her things. Her hands were shaking from her anger and _fear_. What if - what if Harry _left_? No. He wouldn't. Right? She had to be sure. She needed to talk to him _now_. She needed to explain.

Hermione ignored Jack with all her might, trying and failing not to feel sorry for the boy who just shot himself in the foot and had it ricochet towards her.

This was her attempt to dodge it.

"Where is he?" she asked Jack.

"In his room."

And then she was gone, a girl on a mission. Until that day, very few people had ever seen Hermione Granger run, but she ran for her life on _this_ day. The girl was surprisingly fast. She had to force the Fat Lady to hurry when she arrived at the Gryffindor Tower. Goodness only knew what Harry's own thoughts were telling him while she waited for the Portrait to open.

A moment later, she was rushing inside, dumping her bag on a random couch and taking the steps two at a time up to the boys' sixth-year dormitory to find Harry Potter in the position Jack left him, just staring into space.

Forcing herself to catch her breath, Hermione approached him slowly. "Harry?" she whispered, wary of interrupting whatever he was thinking. "Harry?"

Quietly, and almost mechanically, he stood up and turned to face her. The question that came out of his mouth was surprising but also not. It wasn't the phrasing she would have used, but it cut straight to the chase. "Why did it happen, Granger?"

"What?"

He looked at her with a steady gaze. "Tell me why."

She didn't know what to say to him. All she could do was stand there and think about all the ways she was going to murder Jack Potter when she next laid eyes on him. It was worse than she thought. Harry looked _shaken_.

"Was it out of revenge?" he asked. "Did it happen because you wanted to hurt me back? Was that it?" He stepped back. "Because it hurts, Granger. All of this, it bloody _hurts_." He took another step back, running a rough hand through his hair as a result of whatever emotion he was currently feeling. Then: "Why didn't you tell me?"

She waited a beat before she finally spoke, saying words that she didn't initially think she would. They just came out of her mouth and she couldn't even stop them. "Why didn't _you_ tell _me_?"

He blinked in surprise. Wait. "So we're back to this," he said in disbelief. "Are you _seriously_ turning this back on me right now? Right now?"

She just looked at him, keeping her mouth shut, in case something else she was bound to regret came out.

He huffed in annoyance. "Would you even have believed me? Between me and Ginny - would you have believed _me_?"

"I would have," she said in response, her voice rising of its own accord. It seemed that she was just going to be yelling at both Potter boys today, and she wasn't even sure if either one deserved it. "Of course I would have, if you'd only bothered to _tell_ me."

His frowned. "Why?"

"Because you promised me!" she practically snapped. "You promised, all those nights ago, that you would tell me no lies, and I believed you. I _believed_ you, Harry, and then - "

"And then what?" he shot back. "I lied? Merlin Almighty, Hermione, I _asked_ you, and you _told_ me not to tell you, or have you just conveniently forgotten that?"

They both knew she hadn't.

"I just want to know why," he pressed.

"Why?"

"Why," he repeated. "Why did you hold onto it? Why didn't you just tell me?"

"What would it have done, Harry?" she asked tiredly. "It was just a moment. I was in hysterics after I found out about you and Ginny, and Jack was trying to calm me down. He kissed me as some kind of misguided comfort, I guess. I froze in the moment, and I've done everything in my power to forget it ever happened. Is that what you want to know? Is it?"

Harry waited a beat, merely digesting. "I want to know why you let Jack be the one to tell me."

"Because I _couldn't_!"

He blinked. "What?"

She took a breath. " _I_ couldn't," she said. "I've been trying. I've been replaying what I wanted to say over and over in my head but, every time I try, nothing comes out. I just, I didn't know how." Not yet, at least. She was working on it. "I didn't want _this_ to happen."

"I would have believed you," he said after a moment, even though he was sure that wasn't what stopped her.

"And I would have believed you too."

He sighed, absently running another hand through his hair. This was all so messed up.

Hermione echoed his sigh. "I'm sorry," she said. "I am _so_ sorry, Harry." Then: "How mad are you?" she asked. "Are you mad enough to..." she trailed off.

"To what?"

"To leave me?"

Despite the situation, Harry had to laugh, his head shaking. He couldn't help it, really. "Crazy girl," he said, stepping towards her. "Don't you know that I'm desperately in love with you?"

Hermione just stared at him, suddenly dumbfounded. What?

"I'm also sorry," he said. "I haven't handled this well at all. I just - I got caught up in the idea that you kissed him to hurt me but you didn't even actually kiss him, did you?"

All she could really do was shake her head.

"It was a moment," he said, echoing both their words. They'd both had _moments_ with other people; both of whom were once best friends to Hermione Granger. "I think I just - I got confused."

She frowned.

Well, _he_ wasn't the only one who was confused.

"Jack didn't tell me what he did to hurt me," he said, _sounding_ confused. "He did it because he genuinely wanted me to know. He said he wanted a clear conscience before we - " he shook his head. "He actually wants to be my friend, Granger."

Hermione's mouth was painfully dry and she didn't think she could bring herself to speak even if she tried.

Harry seemed unaware of the current short-circuiting going on in her brain. "I've spent _years_ thinking about it, wishing for it, dreaming about it and I - " he stopped. "I like to think that I'm over all of it; that I've somehow managed to work through all the shit he's put me through over the years, but I've just been reminded that maybe I'm not." He shook his head, trying to get himself back on track. This whole mess just put everything in perspective and now he was seeing clearer than ever. "I'm not sure about Jack at all but I've never been as close to sure of anything as I am about you." He took another step towards her. "That hasn't changed. It will never change."

"Harry," she whispered, trying to hold onto the moment of _before_. She could feel something coming and she needed him to slow down. She needed him to stop talking.

Harry reasoned that this was the time. He didn't see a way to go back now.

"I see you, Hermione Granger," he said carefully. "Every day, I see all that you are and all that you're not."

Hermione couldn't bring herself to look at him anymore. He was saying things she wasn't ready to hear. This wasn't what she wanted. She'd come here to apologise; to hear him say that what Jack told him changed nothing. _That was all_.

She'd prided herself on being entirely independent, remaining hidden behind her carefully constructed mask. She really didn't need Harry Potter saying all these things to her. Not now. Now after _everything_.

"I see you," he repeated, his emerald eyes holding her hazel brown ones captive. "I see who you are, and I - "

"Stop," she cried, cutting him off. "Harry, please. Just stop."

He ignored her, stepping forward. "Hermione, I love you."

She just stared at him, unable to process his words. _And_ he'd used her first name. Just what was this boy trying to do to her?

"I love you," he said again, making sure that she knew it wasn't some mistake on his part. He meant to say the words, and he meant every syllable and nuance of them. "Do you hear me? I love you, Hermione Granger. I am so very in love with you."

Hermione was too stunned to respond at first but she quickly gathered her thoughts and stepped away from him. "No, no, no, you don't get to say that to me, Harry. Are you insane? You can't love me. No."

Harry, though a bit baffled, found himself slightly amused.

"This is not funny," she huffed, noticing the barely evident upturn of the edges of his mouth. "This is so far from funny, Harry Potter."

"Why?" he asked. "Seriously, Granger, what are you so afraid of?"

"I, uh, I," she stuttered. Her mind immediately flew to Ginny, but she clamped it down. She was being ridiculous. This was different. Wasn't it? He was telling her he loved her. He loved _her_ , and he wasn't going anywhere. She constantly had to remind herself that he was hers; that he'd never _actually_ cheated on her. He wasn't going anywhere. She could rely on him; she could _need_ him.

"Just talk to me," he said gently.

"I can't say it back," she finally said. It would give him too much power. "I'm sorry."

"That's okay," he whispered.

"It is?" she asked in surprise.

He gave her a reassuring smile. "It's okay, Granger," he said soothingly. "You don't have to say it back now. I'll wait forever if I have to. I will never leave. I love you and I am staying exactly where I am. I just wanted you to know."

She let out a shaky breath in disbelief. This entire conversation felt like an out-of-body experience. "You're not mad about that?" How was he not mad about any of it? Why wasn't he still angry; still shouting?

He smiled at her, cupping her cheeks with his hands. "Of course I'm not mad about that, Granger. How could I be mad?"

"I don't know," she said, dropping her gaze. "I've never, umm, actually said it to anyone and really meant it before."

"Neither have I," he admitted.

"Not even to your mother?"

He balked at that. "I tell her I love her all the time," he said, frowning. "Are you telling me that you don't tell your parents that you love them?"

"I think I would be lying," she admitted. "I don't know them well enough to have accurate feelings for them."

"What about Ginny?"

She swallowed, not liking the way that she reacted to the fact that he brought up the redhead. It was so irrational. It was just a name, for Merlin's sake. "She was always my best friend, I knew that, and I would've done anything for her. I loved her, I did, but I never said it."

"Why not?"

"Because sometimes I didn't really _like_ her," she said softly. "Does that make sense?"

Harry nodded. "It does, yeah." Oh, it made _a lot of_ sense to him.

"It does?"

"I don't know why you always sound so surprised whenever I understand you," he said. "I told you that I see you, Hermione, and I love you."

She swallowed thickly, another wave of guilt threatening. "Are you going to keep saying it?"

He took a deep breath. "Does it make you uncomfortable? I just want to say it enough that you actually start to believe me because I have a feeling that I'm going to have work hard at it." He risked a smile. "I can stop if you want me to."

"Don't," she said quickly. "I mean, I really like hearing you say it, but I don't want you to hurt every time I don't say it back."

A beat later, he was kissing her hard, injecting all the love he possibly could into the kiss. It was a demanding kiss, and deeply overwhelming, as if he was trying to emphasise his words with his actions.

When he pulled away, Hermione was just staring at him, her head spinning. "Then I'm going to tell you I love you every day," he said, looking right into her eyes. "I don't care when you say it. As long as you're in this with me, I'm willing to wait."

She kissed him this time, pulling his bottom lip between her teeth and getting a satisfied moan out of him. "You're too good for me."

"Nonsense."

She giggled. "I'll just kiss you every time you say it, is that okay? Until I'm ready."

"I'm definitely not complaining."

They kissed again and Harry couldn't really remember a time when Hermione Granger wasn't in his life. He was even loathed to think of a time when he didn't love her. What kind of life had he lived without her? How could he have gone his entire life without feeling _this_?

When Hermione pulled away, she looked him right in the eye. "You're insane."

"That may be so," he conceded; "but you're still kissing me, aren't you?"

She nibbled at her bottom lip for a moment, coming to a decision. "Well, that's only because I won't be able to over Christmas Break."

He frowned, his right hand sliding around her back and pulling her closer to him. "What are you trying to tell me right now?"

She dropped her gaze. "So, I've decided to stay here over Christmas Break."

He blinked in surprise. "You have?" he asked. "Why?"

"Well, there's the Slug Club Party," she said; "and I have a ton of work to do as well."

He frowned. "Granger?"

"I really don't want to leave the Castle," she said, almost as a whisper. "And there's really nowhere else for me to go."

"I told you to come home with me," he said, his voice steady and serious. She had to know that she would always have a place with him. It was a given by this point. "I _want_ you to come home with me."

She shook her head. "I can't," she said. "I mean, we _just_ got back together, and it's your first Christmas with your mum and Sirius together, and I - "

He quieted her by placing a finger over her lips. "Are you struggling with the feeling that you would be intruding?"

Hermione seemed to consider it. She knew that lying to him was not the option right now - not after Jack and that stupid kiss - but the truth wasn't an option either. Not right now, at least. "Sort of," she said.

"And you'd really rather stay here?" he asked; "because I wouldn't want you to do anything you don't want to."

She slipped her arms around his neck, needing him close. "I want to stay here, Harry," she said.

He blinked, trying not to feel hurt. "Then you shall."

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't be."

"No, I'm not sorry about _that_ ," she clarified. "I'm sorry that I won't get to kiss you."

"It _is_ a travesty, isn't it?"

She laughed out loud, and he swore it was the sound to end all wars. Really, if he could bottle the sound and pass it out to Death Eaters; he was sure that he could bring them towards the Light without a fight.

"What?" she asked, noticing the slight shift in his features.

"Nothing," he said softly, tightening his hold on her. "I just - I just really love you, Hermione."

The words wouldn't leave her mouth, so Hermione just kissed him.

It seemed to be enough for now.

* * *

The next few days were both long and short and Hermione was at a loss as to how that could be. Still, she didn't complain, because Harry gave her _all_ his attention. It wasn't even that he tried to split his time between her, and Luna and Neville and she reasoned that he was spending so much time with her because of the impending Christmas Break.

Hermione noticed that he pulled back from Jack, though she made sure not to ask him about it. He went about his days as usual, dedicating his time and energy to his studies, his friends and Quidditch. To the Gryffindor team, it was clear to see that the growing camaraderie between their two captains was gone and nobody truly knew the reason why.

Jack didn't push it, and Harry didn't _try_.

At least their next match was in February. The team hoped that the Potters would be able to get it together by then. It _was_ just under three months away, which was a long time for them to make up or do whatever it was that they needed to do, in order for the awkwardness to dissipate.

Besides that, Harry seemed to be handling it all well.

Until he just wasn't.

It happened during a session of their full team training. Really, it came out of nowhere and Hermione wasn't sure what to make of it.

Jack was in the middle of leading a demonstration on the Shield Spell, trying to get everyone up to speed, and Zabini was complaining endlessly. Of course he was. He just kept going, even as Jack tried to help them with their form when they finally started to practice.

Hermione _tried_ to keep Zabini on track, but he wasn't listening, he was unrelenting. All he was doing was complaining, and it took Harry very little time to lose his patience.

"Will you just shut up?" Harry shouted, clearly snapping. "Jack is _trying_ to teach you how to do it, but you're not even trying to listen."

Zabini glared at him. "And why should I listen to him?"

Harry turned to face him fully, his eyes burning with something Hermione recognised as protectiveness and Jack could see anger of the basest kind. Like, he'd really snapped and this was the last straw.

"Why should you listen to _him_?" Harry seethed. "Tell me, Zabini, have you ever come face-to-face with Voldemort?" Several students cowered at the sound of the name but Harry ignored them. In fact, it only served to irritate him more and he stared at each one in turn. "Have you?" he pressed. "Do you know what it feels like to have Voldemort point his wand at you and _try to kill you_? Have you ever been under the Cruciatus, huh? Have you ever fought off Dementors and survived it? Fought off Death Eaters?" He stared hard, particularly at Zabini. "I didn't think so."

His outburst was met with silence.

Harry shook his head. "So, you know, just listen to him," he added. "He's useless at a lot of things, but he's the only one who got an Outstanding in DADA last year and he knows how to _survive_. So, just, damn well, _listen_."

More silence.

Then: "Except for you."

Harry's head whipped around to look at the person who spoke. Fay Dunbar was looking at him with curious, all-seeing eyes and he suddenly felt exposed. "Excuse me?"

She cleared her throat. "Except for you," she repeated. "Jack isn't the only one who got an Outstanding for DADA. You did too."

Harry swallowed audibly, shaking his head in irritation. "The point I'm trying to make is that Jack knows what he's doing," he said tensely. "We'd all do well to listen to him." And that was all he would say as he moved back into position to practice his Shield Spell. It was borderline unnecessary given his own expertise, but Sirius asked him not to give too much away and he was going to listen.

There had to be a reason.

Jack studied Harry for the longest time, before he cleared his own throat and started them working again.

Hermione glanced at Jack for a moment, before she moved towards Harry. He looked tense, his muscles taut and his frown heavy. "Harry?" she whispered, trying and failing to get his attention. "Harry?" she tried again.

He dropped his wand arm, hitting it hard against his side. "Yes, dear," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I'm perfect," he said, not looking at her. "Why do you ask?"

She moved to stand closer to him, gently placing her hand over his, hoping to ease his grip on his wand. It worked, and he released his wand enough for her to take it from him. Not that she really knew what she was supposed to do with it. With her free hand, she reached out to touch his cheek, turning his head to look at her. "Tell me what's wrong," she said, her voice soft and soothing.

"What makes you think something's wrong?" he asked, turning his body to face her. "I'm fine."

"Now you sound like me," she commented.

Harry shook his head, a slight smile on his face. "We're meant to be, Granger."

Hermione didn't doubt that for a second, though she wouldn't be able to tell him. "Did something happen?" she braved asking.

"To?"

"You."

"When?"

"Today, yesterday, I don't know," she said. "What has you all riled up?"

"I'm not riled up."

"Then what are you?" she asked. "Because the way you snapped at Zabini was - "

"Uncalled for?"

"No, it was definitely called for," she said; "just, you know, unexpected."

He raise his eyebrows. "I'm sorry?"

She smiled easily at him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?"

"The reason you're so riled up."

"No," he said. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay."

He swallowed audibly. "Now, please can I have my wand back?"

She sighed heavily, but she did hand his wand back to him, easily slipping it into his hand. She was tempted to ask him if it was her; if it was the fact that she couldn't say _those_ three words to him was the reason he was so tense. But she didn't. Maybe she wasn't ready for what his answer _could_ be.

As soon as she made the move to walk away from him, he reached out and closed his fingers around her wrist.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I just - I'm mad at him."

She didn't have to ask about whom he was talking. "You're allowed to be," she assured him.

"I'm also still a little mad at you," he confessed.

From those words, she knew it had nothing to do with the three words she wouldn't say; it was to do with the fact that Jack was the one who told him about the kiss. "That's also perfectly normal," she said.

"I don't like feeling like this," he told her. "I don't like it at all."

She stepped closer to him. "Do you want to duck out of here?" she asked. "I mean, we both know the Shield Spell pretty well, and I find that I'm craving a Sugar Quill. I _know_ you have a stash somewhere."

He let out a light laugh. "I actually don't," he said. "We'll have to buy more when we go to Hogsmeade."

"My my, are you asking me to Hogsmeade?"

He smiled widely at her, relaxing slightly. "If I was?"

Before she could reply, Zabini interrupted them. "So, while I work my butt off here, why does the other Potter get to make googly eyes at the mudblood?"

Harry grit his teeth for a moment before he raised his wand, opened his mouth and muttered, " _Expelliarmus_."

Zabini's wand flew out of the Slytherin's hand, and Harry caught it easily, his facial expression passive.

"That's why," he said, dropping the wand at his own feet. "You should probably work on your Shield, Zabini. It's practically non-existent."

A beat later, Zabini was lunging at Harry, only to be stopped by Hermione, who was a force to be reckoned with in her own right.

"That's enough!" she hissed. "Both of you." She shot Harry a significant and disappointed look, and he ducked his head in shame. "I think maybe that's enough for today," she said, breathing out. "We all just need to take the evening, cool down, and then we'll meet again tomorrow."

Without awaiting further prompting, Harry left, leaving Hermione to see out the rest of her captain duties. He needed to get out of that room; he just needed to get away.

Hermione felt her heart twist as she watched him go, knowing that whatever was going on inside of him was partly her fault. Okay, probably _all_ her fault. And Jack's.

Though, at least he was still talking to _her_.

"Tomorrow at seven o'clock," she said as everyone started to shuffle out of the room, most of them bidding her goodbye. She felt more and more drained with every fake smile she plastered on and every wave of her hand. This entire day was both eye-opening and heartbreaking.

When it was just her and Jack left, her apathy was quickly replaced by a strange sort of anger. Jack stayed behind for a reason and Hermione had zero patience for whatever he felt he had to say to her.

"What?" she snapped when he kept his eyes on her for an extended amount of time.

He flinched. "Is he - did I - "

"Save it," she said, shaking her head. "I can't be here to help _you_ through this when my boyfriend needs - " she stopped, her voice catching. That was it, wasn't it? Harry Potter needed her this time, so what was she still doing here? Silently, she moved towards Jack, her eyes narrow and two words sitting on the tip of her tongue. "Fix this," she said, and then she was going.

She _did_ have a boyfriend to see and something to make up for. It was too good to be true, wasn't it? Just to have him forgive her silence and cloud his anger with the new-found feelings he seemed to have for her. He'd just left it locked up inside and now it was manifesting in dangerous ways. He knew better than to incite the Slytherins.

The Common Room was quiet when Hermione arrived at Gryffindor Tower, but she did find Dean and Seamus playing Exploding Snap on the carpet in front of the fire. One would think Dean would've seen enough fireworks for one night, but hey. To each his own.

The boy in question looked up at her. "Looking for Harry?"

She nodded.

"Upstairs."

She smiled fondly at him. He really was growing on her. "Thanks," she mumbled, and then she was going again. She suddenly felt exhausted and quite hurt that he'd just left her there. But, then again, she knew Harry was a brooder. She signed up for all if it, the good, the bad, the big and all the small things.

She found him in his dormitory, sitting on his bed with his back against his pillows and his feet up. He looked so much like a little boy, absently twirling a sugar quill between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand.

He looked up when he heard her approach, his eyes locking on her. "Hey," he said softly, hoarsely. He sat up, crossing his legs in front of him. "I, uh, I found you a Sugar Quill," he said nervously.

She moved towards him. "From where exactly?"

"Dean," he admitted. "It's a peace offering."

"And why on earth would _I_ need a peace offering, Harry? You're not fighting with me, are you?"

"No," he said; "but I still feel as if I should apologise for something."

Hermione climbed onto his bed and moved to kneel in front of him, her hands closing around his holding the Sugar Quill. "I don't want an apology, Harry," she said softly. "I just want you to talk to me."

He dropped his gaze. "I don't want to lose you," he whispered.

She frowned. "Why would you lose me?"

"I'm trying to be good," he said. "I'm trying to be what you need."

"What?"

"I don't want you to wake up one day and take it back."

"Take what back?"

"Take back that you want to be with me."

She let out a breath. "But, Harry, I told you I'm in this," she said. "I want this. I want _you_. All of you." She moved her right hand to his hair, stringing her fingers through his thick strands. "Believe me, I'm under no illusions that you're perfect, even though I know you try to be. It's almost a relief to know that you're a normal, hot-blooded, teenage boy."

"I'm trying," he admitted, risking a smile. Then: "I love you."

She wasted no time in leaning forward and kissing him, essentially silencing him. She pushed him backwards, forcing his legs to straighten, and climbed onto him, straddling his waist. Her hands felt like they were everywhere, burning his skin and turning him to putty.

"Granger," he breathed after a full minute, pushing on her shoulders so he could look at her.

"Hmm," she sounded, looking a bit dazed.

"Hold on," he murmured, forcing himself to sit up. "The curtains," he said, his voice hoarse. "Someone could see."

Hermione nodded once, leaned back, took out her wand and dropped the curtains, locking them in place. She contemplated casting a Silencing Charm and eventually decided on it, given the sounds they were both known to make when hands started to stray.

Harry settled back down and looked up at her in wonder. If he could freeze this very moment forever, he would.

"What?" she asked, flushing under his scrutiny.

"Nothing," he said, threading his fingers behind the back of his head and keeping his eyes on her. He didn't dare look away. "You're just really beautiful, that's all."

That didn't help with her blush. "Harry," she breathed, her hands spreading across his chest.

"Hmm."

"Hmm, indeed."

She let out a breathy laugh before she leaned forward again and proceeded to kiss him for all he was worth, definitely relieved that the Silencing Charm was already in place.

* * *

"Only one box?"

Harry glanced at her, a slight smirk on his face. "How many do you want?"

"All, if possible," she said sweetly, which just made him roll his eyes. "Okay, just two then. At least."

"We'll get three."

She squeaked in excitement, reached up to kiss his cheek and then proceeded to grab two extra boxes of Sugar Quills. "Meet you at the till?"

He nodded once, and then watched her scurry away. She was positively adorable when she was like this: all happy-go-lucky, smiley, excitable, and wrapped up so tightly that he wondered how it was possible for him to fall more and more in love with her every day. He grabbed a box of Chocolate Frogs for the Quidditch team before he headed to the front of the shop where he found Hermione waiting in line with Fay.

He moved to stand behind Hermione, placing a gentle hand on the small of her back, just letting her know that he was there. The two girls were talking about Ron and Emily, who were apparently currently in Madame Puddifoot's, making it uncomfortable for practically everyone.

"I love 'love' as much as the next person," Fay was saying; "but seriously. Why can't couples be more like the two of you?"

Hermione couldn't keep hold of her blush. Really, if Fay only knew what she and Harry did behind the curtains of his bed; she'd never look at them the same way.

"I get that it's the hormones," Fay continued; "but at least _try_ to control yourselves in public."

Harry let out a laugh. "Oh, Fay," he said. "I think we need to find you a boyfriend."

Fay huffed in annoyance, even as Hermione looked amusedly at Harry. "Boys are all idiots at this age," she said, rolling her eyes.

Hermione nodded in agreement. "They are."

"Hey," Harry protested.

"Except for you, dear," she was quick to add, distracting him with a kiss to the underside of his chin.

"Hmm."

Hermione looked at Fay, winking conspiratorially. "You're up," she said, and Fay rushed to the till to pay for her few items. Next, Harry and Hermione were up, quickly paying for their own items. After their long day in Hogsmeade, Hermione was looking forward to the walk back to the Castle, with her Sugar Quills and with her Harry.

"Anything else you need to get?" Harry asked her as they left the shop.

She shook her head, keeping her eyes on him. "I have everything I need."

He couldn't help his smile, automatically linking his arm with hers. "Luna said she and Neville would be at the Three Broomsticks whenever we're done."

"Are you not-so-subtlely trying to tell me you want another Butterbeer?"

"And risk my hot body, definitely not."

She let out a laugh. "I see my words are getting to your head, huh?"

"My girlfriend thinks I'm hot; what can I say?"

"I _do_ think you're hot," she said, squeezing his arm. "But, really, let's go get your Butterbeer, and those two friends of ours who just can't seem to get it together and figure out that they like each other."

His eyes widened as he started them walking towards the local pub. "You haven't actually said anything to either of them, have you?"

She shook her head. "Have you?"

"What _can_ I say?" he asked. "I think it's best if we just let them figure it out for themselves. I mean, _we_ did."

"It's all about timing, isn't it?"

He nodded. "That's what my mum says, anyway."

"She's a smart woman."

"Indeed she is."

The Three Broomsticks was relatively quiet, which could only be explained by the fact that the afternoon was drawing to a close. Hermione spotted Neville and Luna first, both of them seated in a booth, opposite each other and having a quiet conversation.

Luna's face broke out into a wide smile when she spotted the approaching couple.

"Another round?" Harry asked, as Hermione slipped in beside Luna.

After collective nodding, Harry was on his way to Madame Rosmerta to pick up four bottles of Butterbeer. She was still busy with two Ravenclaw Seventh-Years and he was forced to wait to get her attention. Although, when she did eventually look at him, it was as if she wasn't actually seeing him.

"Uh, can I get four Butterbeers please?"

She blinked once, twice, and then produced his order. The entire thing was odd, but he shook it off as he quickly paid and then carried the tray back to their booth. Once he was seated, he glanced over at her a few times, but his friends and their antics were enough of a distraction to claim his focus.

Neville was the one to suggest they head back up to the Castle when Luna finished the last drop of her drink. Collectively, they stood and _re_ bundled up to face the cold before they left the pub to begin their walk back to the Castle.

"It's freezing," Hermione complained thirty seconds into their walk, burrowing deep into Harry's side, seeking warmth.

Harry could only smile at her antics as they trudged through the snow, Luna and Neville behind them, and a pair of Seventh-Years ahead of them. Harry was also keenly aware that they'd left Jack and Ron back in the Three Broomsticks, the two of them clearly involved in something secretive. Maybe they were discussing whatever they may have learnt about Malfoy.

"We'll get you in front of the fire in no time," Harry told her.

She was about to respond when they heard what could only be described as an escalating argument coming from somewhere ahead of them. Harry tensed immediately, shifting to stand in front of Hermione. Which was really rather moot when he realised it was just Katie arguing with her friend, Leanne Delph.

But then.

"What the - " he sputtered, just able to watch in amazement as Katie started to rise into the air. Leanne was also just watching with wide eyes, clear shock on her face. What was happening?

"She looks so peaceful," Luna said, a frown on her face.

Harry glanced at her before his eyes returned to the rising Katie, with Leanne trying to hold onto her legs, as if she could somehow stop her ascent. The entire thing was _odd_ , because she _did_ look peaceful. Graceful, even, with her arms outstretched as though she were about to fly off into oblivion.

Something was wrong.

"She's not doing it herself," Harry said, automatically moving forward. Katie's eyes were closed, and her robes and hair were whipping about as if she were in a whirlwind but it was as if she didn't feel any of it. _Whatever_ she was feeling _was_ peaceful.

Until she wasn't.

When she was high enough above the ground to rival the tops of the trees, her eyes flew open and she let out a piercing, glass-shattering scream. Hermione even blocked her ears to keep it out, the anguish of Katie's cry cutting straight into her heart. Katie screamed and screamed, which prompted Harry into action.

He turned to Neville. "Go get help!" he rushed, before he was running towards Katie and taking out his wand. He had no idea what he was going to do, but he had to do something. "What happened?" he asked Leanne, looking up at Katie.

She just stared at him with wide eyes.

He placed his hands on her shoulders, giving her his full attention. "What happened?" he repeated.

"I don't know," she finally said. "We were just arguing, and - " her gaze dropped to the ground. "We were arguing over that package."

Harry blinked. What package? He followed her gaze to the snow-covered floor to see the package she was talking about. He automatically bent down to retrieve it, but Leanne's scream stopped him.

"Don't!" she yelled. "Whatever's inside; it did that to Katie."

Harry stepped back, alarmed but, before he could question her further, the screams only increased, drawing attention.

Until, well, they just stopped.

Harry had enough time to look up to see Katie drop. She accelerated to the ground so quickly, and Harry's brain could barely get out a Cushioning Charm before she hit the ground with a sharp 'crack.'

The silence that followed was deafening.

Nobody moved.

Nobody even said a word.

It was only when Jack and Ron arrived that everyone kicked into action again. Harry dropped to his knees at Katie's side, though he didn't touch her in fear of injuring her or whatever was doing this to her being passed on to him. Cursed objects weren't his expertise.

"What happened?" Jack asked, looking around at all their blank faces. "Hermione," he said; "what happened? Merlin, what's going on?"

Hermione waited a beat before she spoke. "We have to get her back to the Castle," she said, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Madame Pomfrey will know what to do."

Harry just nodded, as he rose to his feet. "Granger, can you levitate her?" he asked, and waited for her nod. Next, he looked at Luna. "Get Professor Snape," he said. "Bring him to the Hospital Wing. Tell him Katie's been cursed."

"What?" Jack asked, his own eyes wide.

Harry turned to look at him. "Go get Dumbledore," he said. "He'll know what to do with this thing." Then, using his own wand, he levitated the cursed object, and started to walk briskly, expecting them to follow. Hermione _did_ , and Luna took off at a run towards the Castle.

Jack hesitated for just a moment, before he too sprinted back to the Castle, with Ron quickly following.

"Leanne," Harry said, absently reaching out for the older girl to make sure she kept moving. She looked so out of it, and he didn't want her to fall behind. "Tell me more of what happened."

The girl was trembling, and Harry put an arm around her shoulders in comfort, splitting his attention between her and keeping the cursed package ahead of them.

"I tried to stop her," she said; "but she wouldn't listen."

"I know," Harry said, trying to be soothing.

"We were arguing," she sobbed. "What if the last thing I ever did was yell at her?"

Harry glanced over his shoulder at Hermione, who was just staring at him in concern. "We're going to get her to Madam Pomfrey," Harry said. "She'll know what to do, and then you can tell Katie anything you want."

Leanne let out another sob.

"Can you tell me about the package?" Harry tried. "Do you know where she got it?"

Leanne cleared her throat. "We - we were at the Three Broomsticks," she said, remembering. "She went to the bathroom and then came back with it. When I asked, she said it was for someone in the Castle, and she had to deliver it."

Harry frowned. "Did you ask her what it was?"

"She didn't know," she told him. "She - there was something wrong with her."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know," she confessed. "Just - she sounded odd. Looked strange."

Harry blinked, thinking back to Madam Rosmerta. "Leanne," he said carefully. "Do you think Katie could have been _Imperiused_?" he asked.

Before she could respond, a voice screaming his name caught their collective attention. Neville was running towards them, with Hagrid following close behind. The half-giant just took in the scene with his own wide eyes, before he moved towards Katie.

He mumbled something about having to hurry, and plucked Katie from the air before taking off at a speed Harry didn't think he was capable of.

Harry looked at Hermione. "Go with him," he said. "Take Leanne with you."

She frowned. "What about you?"

"I have to take care of this package," he said. "Just go. I've got Neville. We're right behind you."

Still, she hesitated.

He gave her a reassuring smile. "Go."

And she did. She blindly reached for Leanne's hand, and then the two girls were scurrying behind Hagrid, leaving Harry to make a decision. He and Neville could continue on to the Castle, or they could turn around and return to the Three Broomsticks to see Madam Rosmerta.

The decision was taken away from him when he spotted a group of people headed in his direction. He could make out Jack, Ron, Dumbledore and Argus Filch as they all stumbled through the snow towards the two of them.

"Where's Katie?" Jack asked, reaching Harry and Neville first.

"Hagrid's taken her to the Hospital Wing," Harry replied.

Behind Jack, Dumbledore came to a stop near the package. "Severus should be with them now," he commented, though he didn't look at any of the boys. His attention was solely on the ripped package. Harry could only watch as, with supreme care, their Headmaster opened the package further, making sure to keep his fingers on the brown wrapping.

From his position, Harry spotted a strange blackness to the Headmaster's fingertips, but his attention was really drawn to the name scribbled on a ripped piece and his mouth suddenly went dry.

Dumbledore's eyes flicked his way but he said nothing.

Inside the package was one of the most beautiful necklaces Jack had ever seen. Silver metal, and blue stones. No. _Opal_. But what really struck him the most was that he'd actually seen the necklace before. In Borgin and Burkes. But what was it doing here? And with Katie no less?

Dumbledore took a step back, clearly recognising it as well.

"What is it?" Ron asked.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I believe it is a Dark object, Mr Weasley," he said.

"How Dark?" Jack asked.

"Direct contact would result in a very painful death," he said, and all the boys shuddered. "Minimal contact is torturous, which I believe is what has happened to Miss Bell."

Harry swallowed, before he stepped forward. "Leanne said that Katie was acting odd," he said, addressing Dumbledore. "Said Katie got the package from the Three Broomsticks. Madam Rosmerta was also acting quite weird."

Dumbledore looked pensive.

Harry took a breath. "I think they were _Imperiused_ ," he said. "Someone wanted Madam Rosmerta to give the necklace to Katie to bring to the Castle, to somehow deliver it to you, Sir."

Jack, Ron and Neville all stared at him but he kept his eyes on Dumbledore.

Eventually, the aged wizard let out a long breath. "That does appear to be the case, Mr Potter," he admitted. Then he turned to Filch. "Argus, take this package to my office."

Filch made a move towards the still levitating package, his hands cupping to support the package's bottom. Once it was secure, Harry dropped his levitation.

"What happens now, Professor?" Jack asked Dumbledore.

"Now," he said thoughtfully. "You four go up to the Castle. The professors and I will investigate what's happened here."

No boy was satisfied with that, though Dumbledore received no complaints. Harry and Jack shared a significant look, in which they both accepted the fact that they both suspected that Malfoy probably, definitely, had something to do with it.

How they would prove it, though, neither of them knew.

"Come on, Neville," Harry grumbled, as he started them on the walk to the Castle. He was burning with injustice. From his own experience, he knew that an 'investigation' by their professors would result in nothing. Whoever did this to Katie would get away with it and he didn't -

"Easy," Neville whispered to him when they reached the front of the Castle. "I can practically feel your magic."

He let out a breath. "Sorry."

"I don't even know why you're apologising to me," he said, smiling slightly. "We'll figure it out."

Harry shook his head. "It doesn't even matter if we do, Nev. What could we possibly do?"

Neville clapped Harry on the back. "We're the Mosstroopers."

Harry managed to smile at him as he let them descend into the silence. It wasn't said out loud but all four of them knew they were going to the Hospital Wing. If not to see Katie, then Harry was going to see Hermione.

What they didn't expect was to find Leanne, Luna and Hermione waiting outside and the Hospital Wing doors closed.

"Why are you outside?" Jack asked.

Hermione kept her eyes on Harry when she responded. "Professor Snape is in there with her," she said. "He managed to slow down the curse but - " she stopped, her voice catching. "It's serious."

Harry immediately moved towards her and took her in his arms, holding her to him. "She's going to be fine," he whispered, even though he couldn't really be sure. But she had to be.

Katie _had_ to be fine.

She had to.

The students were still standing there when the doors eventually flew open to reveal Professor Snape, who looked equally surprised by the sight of them. Harry released Hermione and the two of them looked at their Defence professor expectantly.

"Oh," Snape said, dropping his arms to his sides and lifting his nose. "You're still here."

Jack stepped towards him. "How is she?"

"Miss Bell is expected to make a full recovery," he said slowly. "It will, however, take some time."

The students all nodded in understanding, each of them somewhat surprised that he'd actually responded to Jack's question.

Then: "Seeing as I have you here," he continued. "Will you pass on a message to your fellow students?" He kept his eyes on Hermione, whom he knew was one of the war games' team captains. "Owing to unforeseen circumstances, the Defense Against the Dark Arts war games have been postponed until further notice _._ "

"Of course, Professor," Hermione said, stepping back into Harry's waiting arms.

Snape nodded once, before he moved out of the doorway and practically glided down the corridor, away from them, leaving them in his wake.

Harry glanced at Neville, a small smirk on his face. "Well, what do you know," he said somewhat cheekily. "The guy actually _does_ have a heart."


	20. Fair Fight

AN: I hope you're all having a safe and happy holiday season!

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty: Fair Fight**

'Further notice' turned out to be two weeks later than originally scheduled, which also happened to be the day before the infamous Slug Club Christmas Party. So, really, Snape didn't have that _much_ of a heart.

Surprising.

"Have you heard anything about Katie?" Hermione asked Harry as they made their way to their training room for the, hopefully, final training session before the games officially began. They were scheduled for the last Thursday of term and would probably, definitely, take up most of the afternoon to complete. The Sixth-Years were scheduled for Thursday, and the Seventh-Years were on Friday.

The games were going to be broadcast into various classrooms on levels of the Castle that weren't being used for the games, similar to the setup of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, with only visual and no audio. Apparently Snape wanted the younger years to be able to learn from their successes and failures. He smiled rather evilly when he mentioned that last part.

The games worked similar to that of the Muggle game 'Capture the Flag,' which was a truth that eased Hermione's worries. She was well-versed with the Muggle game, and the fact that Snape made a point of letting them know how they performed would go towards their final marks didn't help with her anxiety. The one big difference was there was no 'prison' involved. If you were sufficiently incapacitated and not revived, you were out of the game.

That was both good and bad, she reasoned, which was why she'd thought that a 'prison' wasn't actually the worst idea.

"Not much," Harry replied, his fingers squeezing hers automatically. "Just that she's at St Mungo's now, and will probably be there for a while. My mum said curses like that are deadly and, even if you manage to stop it, recovery can take up to six months. She says Katie's lucky. Any more contact, and she'd be dead."

Hermione visibly shuddered.

Harry didn't really want to talk about Katie. It made him feel... responsible, though he wasn't sure how or why that was. So he changed the subject. "How are you feeling about tomorrow?" he asked, which was probably the wrong question to ask because she gave him a significant look.

Tomorrow, Hermione would be testing for her Apparation license, and Harry had to admit that he was a little jealous. Officials from the Ministry came to the Castle twice a year with the sole intention of issuing licenses to those witches and wizards who were of age.

And Hermione Granger was one of them.

Harry knew her Apparation was impeccable, but tests of any type generally put his girlfriend on edge. She was a perfectionist by nature, which was a character trait that really crossed with her crippling fear of failure.

He smiled at her, trying to ease her mind. "Would you, my dear, like a distraction?" he asked softly.

She rolled her eyes. "You're going to have to work on your seduction, Harry."

He laughed out loud. "I'm learning as we go along here, Granger," he said. "I mean, I _could_ just drag you into a broom closet and make you - " he stopped abruptly, blushing a deep red.

"Make me what?" she asked, eyeing him carefully.

"Never mind," he said, unable to look at her.

Hermione wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to tease him. "Make me what, Harry?" she asked again, keeping her gaze on him. "Make me scream your name in ecstasy, perhaps?"

Harry actually skipped a step at the sound of that, and Hermione burst out laughing. "You're mean," he commented, as they reached the training room. They were a little early, which offered Hermione the opportunity to prepare for her final address. They were going to go over what every person's role in the plan was, how they would protect their base and finally decide which members were, well, going to be the sacrificial lambs.

Hermione reasoned that some members of the team were more valuable in battle than others, and she was struggling with how to break it to the ones who weren't. Some of them were bound not to like it but they all had to be on board.

She could only hope that they were all willing to do what the detailed plan entailed.

Her sub-team spent endless hours coming up with the plan they were all happy with. In fact, Hermione was rather proud of it. She was proud of the fact that the three of them - she, Daphne Greengrass and Kevin Entwhistle - managed to work together well enough to _agree_ on a plan they all believed would work.

And it _would_ work, provided everybody played his or her part.

To Hermione's surprise, the meeting went surprisingly well, with all members seeming to pay attention and accept the roles Hermione assigned for them. She went over the plan in great detail, reiterating that nobody was to deviate from it. When she said that, she made sure to look pointedly at Jack, Harry, Malfoy and Zabini. Those hot-headed boys would probably end up doing something stupid anyway, but she had to try.

Maybe if she said it enough times, it would get into their thick skulls.

Jack had the good sense to duck his head, even as Harry grinned cheekily at her. Malfoy and Zabini both just scowled. Really, she didn't expect anything different from any of them.

"Right," she eventually said, smiling warmly. "I think that's it for tonight. It's been a pleasure training with the lot of you." It was probably the truth, but nobody could be sure. "Good luck to those of you testing tomorrow. See you on Thursday, sharp and ready to go."

At the dismissal, people started to gather their things.

"Remember to go over the allowed spells," Hermione reminded them. "Professor Snape was very clear about that. If we use anything that isn't on the list, we could face disqualification." Her last word was said with such distaste that the rest of the team even _felt_ it. "Make sure you get plenty of sleep," she added after a moment.

"Anything else?" Fay asked teasingly.

Hermione blushed. "No, I think that's all."

Harry stood in a corner and waited while Hermione answered a few late questions and saw to the last few members. When everyone was gone, she packed up her things as quickly as she could and turned to look at him.

"I'm ready for that distraction now," she said.

Harry let out a laugh. "In here? Or were you hoping for a broom closet?"

She pretended to think about it. "Oh, the choices," she mused. "My boyfriend really knows how to treat his lady, doesn't he?"

Harry held out his hand for her. "Come on," he said. "You said it yourself. You have to get plenty of sleep, Granger."

She exaggerated a pout. "Don't you want me?"

"I _always_ want you."

She shuffled towards him and slipped her hand into his, loving the warmth of him. "I always want you too," she murmured, before she started them moving. They exited the room for what they hoped would be the last time, and started on their way back to Gryffindor Tower.

They barely made it a few metres before someone was calling out to them.

Well, to one of them.

"Hermione?"

Both Gryffindors turned towards the sound of the voice, to see Luna walking towards them.

"Hey," Harry said, smiling at her. "Everything okay?"

Luna came to a stop in front of them. "Of course," she said, before turning her attention to Hermione. "I just - uh, I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute."

Hermione glanced at Harry for a beat before she looked at Luna. "Sure," she said. "Shall we walk?"

Luna nodded.

Harry just stared at the two witches, clearly confused but definitely knowing his place. He moved to kiss Hermione's temple, quietly telling her he would wait for her in the Common Room, and then he left the two witches to their _talk_. He just hoped it wasn't anything serious.

Though, he had to admit he was secretly glad that Luna now had a female friend to talk to about things that she probably felt uncomfortable talking to boys about. It was one thing to lend out his mother, but now he had his girlfriend too.

Hermione and Luna watched him disappear before they started on their own walk, headed in the same direction Harry'd gone. The older witch remained silent as they matched each other step-for-step, just waiting for Luna to work up the courage to say whatever she needed to say. It had to be important because Luna Lovegood wasn't one to shy away from getting to the root of the problem.

"So," Luna started.

"So," Hermione echoed.

"The Slug Club Christmas Party is coming up," she said, full-well knowing it was just a few days away. "And, well, we're supposed to have dates, aren't we?"

"It's not a requirement," Hermione said gently, trying to ease the obvious discomfort in her friend's voice.

Luna cleared her throat. "So, I could go by myself is what you're saying?"

Hermione glanced at her. "You could, yes."

"But what if I don't _want_ to?"

"Then you don't have to," Hermione said. "Why? Do you have a specific person in mind?"

Luna dropped her gaze. "I might," she confessed. "But I'm _sure_ Harry's not going to like it."

Hermione blinked. "What? Why?"

Luna shook her head, ignoring Hermione's queries. "You're right," she said with a laugh, merely confusing the older witch. She was right? About what? She didn't even say anything. "I'll just go alone."

Hermione frowned. "Luna?"

Wait.

Did Luna really think that Harry would have a problem with her asking Neville to accompany her to the Party? If that really was the case, then she was going to have to get Harry to make it clear to them both that he would be okay with it; that he even endorsed it.

Luna let out a laugh, which surprised Hermione. Everything about this conversation - if one could even call it that - made no sense to the Gryffindor. "It's crazy, anyway," Luna said, bringing them to a stop at a junction - one way leading to Gryffindor Tower, and the other to Ravenclaw Tower. "We aren't even in the same House, and he's older than me." She shook her head again, as if she were in her own little world. "I think it's best if I do just go alone."

Hermione wasn't sure she was even needed for Luna's apparent monologue.

"Thanks for your help, Hermione."

Before Hermione could even say anything in response, Luna was scurrying away, leaving the older witch to wonder if she'd actually got everything so horribly and terribly wrong.

* * *

"I'm not wearing that."

Hermione forced herself to take a deep, calming breath. It wouldn't do to lose her temper _now_ , when she'd done so well these past few weeks. "Zabini," she breathed. "You _have_ to wear the bandana. It's what identifies you as part of Team One."

"But it's red," he said. "That's a Gryffindor colour."

She sighed. "The other team is blue. Red and blue are standard colours for this kind of game. Now, will you please put the damn bandana on before you get us all disqualified!"

Zabini gawked at her for a moment, before he took the offending garment from her and tied it around his left upper arm.

Before Hermione could make another retort, Daphne Greengrass moved to stand next to her, looking mildly amused. "Is 'damn' the worst curse word you've ever said?" she asked, which succeeded in getting the Gryffindor to smile. After initially butting heads, the two witches seemed to come to an... understanding, of sorts. They were _understanding_ of each other, though neither would go so far as to call the other a friend.

 _Yet_ , at least.

"Wouldn't you like to know," Hermione said with a laugh. "Where's _your_ bandana?"

Greengrass pointed to her leg, where the red fabric was wrapped around her calf, just under the level of her knee. "I figure it could double as a wand holster if completely necessary." She turned her body to face Hermione fully, her own features turning serious. "Your plan is going to work," she said.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Since when is it _my_ plan?" she asked. "Not two days ago, you were making it painfully clear to me that you and Kevin were the largest contributors."

"I thought you didn't listen to me."

Hermione let out a laugh, feeling herself relax. "You're right, I really don't," she said.

"What?" Greengrass asked in mock surprise. "Did Hermione Granger just say that I'm right?"

Hermione ignored her. "My plan _is_ going to work."

"That's the spirit."

Hermione glanced at her watch. It was almost time. "Okay, everyone," she called out, getting her team's attention. "This is it. Today, we go into battle." She flashed a smile that was equal parts excitement and predatory, which earned her an appreciative chuckle. "Is everyone set? Let me have a look at you."

As quickly as she could, Hermione's eyes roamed over her team members, ensuring that the red of their identifiers was clearly visible. Both Harry and Jack had their bandanas tied around their foreheads, looking battle-ready. Though, she guessed that they were trying to hide their scars.

Hermione couldn't help marvelling at how similar they actually looked, hair mussed and eyes wide. If it weren't for the colour of their hair and eyes and shape of their glasses, they could probably pass for the same person. It was actually rather unsettling.

When it was time, they headed to the Entrance Hall together, where they met up with Snape and the other team; a team that was wearing dark cloaks and face paint as if they were some kind of warriors.

Dean and Harry exchanged an amused look.

Snape cleared his throat and moved to stand on the bottom step, to look over all twenty-four students. "The rules are simple," he said. "Follow them."

Hermione'd already spent a full session drilling the rules into her team, and then a further session with Kevin and Greengrass to pick the rules apart. They'd found loopholes that they were going to exploit. She was suddenly looking forward to it.

"Here are fresh maps," Snape said, handing a pile of parchment to Hermione and to Michael Corner, the other team's captain. "Any team found out of bounds will be disqualified. Any use of spells not on the specified list; disqualification. Any malice, brute force and just plain stupidity; disqualification." He scowled. "Need I remind you miscreants that disqualification equals failure."

Hermione tensed at the sound of that. Failure. She'd worried enough about that word the day before, though it had been pointless. Her Apparation test went off without any hiccups and she was now a proud owner of a license that would allow her to leave the Castle for Christmas Break without Harry Potter ever knowing.

"You have fifteen minutes to find a suitable position for your flag and set yourselves up according to your battle strategy," Snape continued. "At the sound of the siren, the game will begin. During this time, I will not interfere. It will only end when one team successfully has hands on the other's flag. Only then will your performance be assessed." He bent down to his left and lifted the flags: one blue and one red. To Hermione, he handed the blue one, and to Corner, the red.

"Please," Snape said tiredly, closing his eyes for a moment as if this was honestly the last place he wanted to be; "try not to kill one another." Then: "Your time starts now."

Jumping slightly, Hermione checked her watch. Fifteen minutes. Okay. They could do this. They planned for this. Quickly, she huddled Team One together and handed out the maps, as if they needed a reminder of where the boundary between the two territories was.

"We all know what we're supposed to do," she said, handing off the flag to the designated bearer. She smiled at her roommate for a moment, silently wishing her luck, and then they were all on their way. Greengrass moved to stand next to Hermione as majority of the team headed towards the Great Hall. It would be their home base; from where each wave of attack would originate.

"You ready for this?" Greengrass asked.

Hermione dug in her bag for the all important item and pulled it out, smiling at the Slytherin. "Even if I weren't, what would you do?"

"Probably hex you," she quipped, and Hermione let out a laugh.

"Am I going to have to Silence you, or can you control yourself?"

"Aim that wand at me, and I will hurt you."

Hermione couldn't tell if she was being serious or not, but she definitely wasn't going to chance it.

Once they reached the Great Hall, Dean and Zabini moved towards the Teachers' table and set up camp. Ernie, Kevin and Lisa stayed near the front doors, each of them getting ready for what was to come. Ernie looked antsy, Lisa determined and Kevin excited. Hermione just hoped and prayed that none of them ended up getting hurt.

Her poor, little sacrificial lambs.

It took her another moment to settle, which was helped by Harry's gentle squeeze of her left shoulder and his reassuring smile. It definitely wasn't lost on her that the other girls on the team looked at him with... she didn't even know what she was seeing in their eyes. But even Greengrass was looking.

She just knew that he had eyes for only her, and that was all that mattered.

Hermione checked her watch again. Not long to go now.

"Good luck, everyone," Hermione called out one last time. "See you with the flag."

That eased some of the tension in the Hall and, when the siren did eventually go off, they were ready and raring to go. Hermione glanced at Harry, smiled, and then disappeared under the Cloak of Invisibility with Daphne Greengrass.

Harry could only watch, as he shifted into position next to Justin. "It's kind of annoying that we have to wait so long to get involved," he said good-naturedly.

Justin grinned at him. "We're the ones who get the glory."

Ernie, Lisa and Kevin formed what Hermione termed the First Wave. It was expected that the three of them would do all they could to get as close to the flag as they could, possibly even identify its location while taking out as many members of the other team as they could. Really, they were expected to fail.

They were expected to make it look _easy_ , in order to invite the other team into _their_ territory. Harry didn't like waiting, but Hermione's plan required it.

When it was time for the Second Wave, it was Jack and Malfoy's turn to leave the Great Hall and Harry could only hope they were successful in identifying where the flag was before they possibly turned their wands on each other.

Harry checked his watch for what felt like the hundredth time, tensing when they heard the sound of spells not too far away from the entrance to the Great Hall. Harry's grip on his wand shifted, and he glanced behind him.

Dean looked tense, but he did smile when he noticed Harry looking at him.

Harry cocked his head, before nudging Justin. It was time to go, and the two boys set off immediately.

A moment later, Dean spotted a cloaked figure hurl something into the Great Hall. It was a black ball - probably some kind of explosive - that bounced once, twice, and was stopped by the leg of a table. Thankfully, it hadn't made its way far enough into the Hall to trouble _him_.

But.

Justin and Harry were heading straight towards it.

"Get down," Dean yelled, but Harry and Justin heard him too late and the two boys were blown across the Hall, both of them slamming against the far wall.

The substantial explosion also knocked the thrower over, which was valuable time that Team One's Third Wave needed in order to recover.

"Bloody hell!" Dean hissed, knowing that he couldn't leave his position. He couldn't leave the flag unprotected. Hermione made them promise not to deviate from the plan, no matter what happened.

But, then again, the witch would probably kill him if he let her boyfriend die of internal bleeding on the floor.

Dean was about to make a move when Harry slowly started to sit up, a painful grimace on his face. "Well," he murmured to himself. "That was unexpected."

"Get up, Harry," Dean screamed at him, drawing his attention.

Harry was still a little groggy as he slowly got to his feet while searching for his wand, which he'd lost in the aftermath of the explosion. "All right," he said to Dean, even though he wasn't sure the other boy could hear him. "Quit being so bossy."

All Dean could really do was smile.

When Harry spotted his wand, he rushed to pick it up before heading over to Justin, who was also just coming to. "Hey," Harry said, kneeling down at his side. "I think your race is run, mate. Go back to the flag and help Dean and Zabini protect it." He helped the Hufflepuff get to his feet, watched him move into position, and then turned on the offensive.

It was actually fascinating to watch, and Dean was a little in awe. He could only imagine what the rest of the Castle was seeing. The way Harry's posture shifted, the way his grip on his wand changed, and the way he moved out of the Great Hall and through the corridor, a boy on a mission, was fascinating. Perhaps he _was_ better off alone.

"Where do you want me?" Justin asked, drawing Dean's attention.

"Uh," he said, looking away from Harry. "On the left there. Hermione's convinced they'll use some kind of Disillusionment, so be on the lookout for any shimmers or anything out of the ordinary. Stun first; ask questions later."

Kevin merely nodded as he moved into position, determination on his face.

When Dean looked back in Harry's direction, he could no longer see the wizard, though there were now two Stunned bodies in his wake. They would probably disappear from sight in the next minute and appear in the makeshift prison in the antechamber behind the Great Hall. Hermione created temporary Portkeys for just that purpose.

Well well well, Harry Potter.

"Keep your eyes open," Dean said to his team. "There could be more of those bombs that hit Justin and Harry."

Already hundreds of metres away, Harry crouched down behind an overturned table, _waiting_. He could hear running feet, which he guessed belonged to members of Team Two, thinking that they had a clear path to the flag.

Hmm.

When they were close enough, Harry sent a Tripping Jinx in their direction, sending them all to the floor. Barely a beat later, he had them bound and Silenced, without ever having to reveal his position. Carefully, he shifted the three members, who were wearing those ridiculous cloaks, to sit against the wall so they could see him. It was borderline sadistic of him but he couldn't help it.

With a gust of wind, he revealed them to be Susan Bones, Stephen Cornfoot and Zacharias Smith. On top of the two he'd just Stunned - Michael Corner and Theodore Nott - it left at least seven more members. He just hoped the initial two waves managed to make some headway.

Before moving on, Harry clipped Hermione's timed Portkeys onto their cloaks, and then started further down the corridor. It was a right mess, really. But, well, what _was_ really troubling was that there weren't any of his own team members around. Had the sacrifice gone _that_ well? Were they, perhaps, Disillusioned?

Harry ducked into a classroom when he heard footsteps.

And then voices.

"Michael said the flag is in the Great Hall," a voice said, which Harry recognised as Terry Boot. "It's the only place that makes sense."

"But isn't that what they want us to think?" That was Neville, and Harry felt a sudden surge of pride.

"It'd be the best place," Terry argued. "It's in there. They've even got people protecting it."

That seemed to placate Neville, until the Hufflepuff spoke up again. "How many people?" he asked, and Harry forced himself not to squeal. Merlin, he was _so_ proud of his best friend.

"What?" Terry asked.

"How many people are protecting the flag?" he repeated, more clearly. "If it's only a few, then it's not the real flag."

Terry remained silent for a long while. "Are you saying Michael is wrong?" he asked accusingly.

Harry's grip on his wand tightened but, before he could do anything, he felt a hand clamp over his mouth. He was about to elbow the person in the ribs, when he heard a familiar voice.

"It's me."

He relaxed only minutely, just enough to hear Neville's reply.

"Michael was right, of course," he said calmly. "But that's what they were banking on. They _knew_ we'd fixate on the Great Hall. The flag has to be somewhere else."

"That friend of yours is awfully smart," the voice quipped from behind Harry, forcing him to turn.

"I taught him all he knows," Harry said, smirking at his brother. "What's going on? Where's Malfoy?"

Jack shrugged. "First Wave was caught. Those kids put up quite the fight, I won't lie. Hermione and Greengrass are, well, I don't know where they are. And the Snake let himself get hit with a Stunner."

"And you didn't revive him?"

"He was annoying me."

Harry's eyes widened.

Jack smiled. "I couldn't," he confessed. "They were suddenly on us - I had to get away."

"Who were they?"

"Don't know," he said. "They were wearing those ridiculous cloaks."

"Reminds me of Little Hangleton, to be honest," Harry mumbled.

"Me too." He fell silent for a moment. "Where's Justin?"

"We got hit with a bomb of some sort," he told him. "He was shaken up pretty badly. I left him with Dean and Zabini."

"That should add more credibility to our fake flag," he said. "Though Longbottom seems to be on to us."

Harry stood up straight, preparing to move. "Then, I guess, we'd better hurry."

Before Harry headed out of the classroom, Jack grabbed his arm. "Disillusionment?" he asked.

Harry spent a moment thinking about it, before he shook his head. "Nah," he sounded. "I want them to see us coming."

Jack couldn't help his laugh as he followed Harry into the empty corridor. Terry and Neville were gone, probably in search of wherever they thought the actual flag was. Harry doubted they would find it, but hey, stranger things had happened. He _and_ Jack were working together.

"Do you know where the flag is?" Harry asked, his voice dropping as he creeped down the corridor.

"There are a lot of them near the courtyard with the fountain and the ruined cloister," Jack whispered back. "Which makes sense. They'd _definitely_ see us coming then."

Harry grinned at him. "That's the plan," he practically sang, before he took off at a sprint.

"No, that's not the plan," he said after him, also having to run to keep pace with him. Hermione was going to kill them both if she ever found out they were being so careless.

Hmm.

Maybe that _was_ the point.

Though, maybe Harry was more shaken up by that explosion than he first let on. Which was an explanation that Jack shot to hell when he witnessed just how fast Harry could actually run. No injured person ran that fast and didn't feel it.

Harry came to a sudden stop before they reached the courtyard, ducking behind a pillar and peeking around it. There were three figures clearly visible, standing around the fountain, protecting what Harry _knew_ was the flag. It had to be.

"One of them is Ron," Jack whispered from behind Harry.

"And probably the Patil sisters," Harry added, noticing the similar forms of the other two roaming students. "We could probably take them, provided Terry and Neville don't get back to help."

"Don't forget about Davis and Parkinson," he reminded him.

Harry sighed. "Do you reckon they went walkabout, or are they lying in wait, ready to attack if we make a move?"

He spent a moment thinking about it. "It's a toss-up."

"Regardless," Harry said; "we could still take them."

Jack looked skeptical.

"So you want to just stay here?"

Jack shook his head. Harry _knew_ that was a stupid question. "So, we're the Fourth Wave then?"

Harry shrugged. "Are you up for it?"

Jack chuckled. "Do you even have to ask?"

"They might have bombs," Harry said as he stood up straight. "And watch out for any other traps."

"I'm not an amateur, Harry."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Prove it."

A beat later, both boys were on the move. Harry ran further down the corridor, managing to stay out of sight. He counted three breaths, and then both Potters were attacking, one from each side of the courtyard.

Team Two definitely saw them coming, but then they also didn't.

Harry fired off two quick Stunners, hitting one of the sisters. It threw the other one off enough for Jack was able to disarm her, with Harry quickly binding her. It should have been just Ron left.

But it wasn't.

Jack spotted them first. "Duck," he yelled, which was just in time for Harry to dodge the Stunner that Terry sent at him, which was quickly followed by spellfire from Neville, Tracey Davis _and_ Pansy Parkinson.

Hmm.

Battle broke out, five versus two, and Harry hoped that Hermione and Greengrass were using the opportunity to close in on the flag at the centre of the fountain. Harry alternated between Shields and Stunners with ease, somewhat enjoying being able to, essentially, flex his muscles.

Each team was holding their own, with Jack and Harry slowly getting the upper hand, right until the moment someone decided to set off one of those black bombs. It was distracting enough for all spellfire to halt, even knocking the two Potters off balance for a very crucial moment.

Two things happened at once.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Jack was disarmed, his prized wand flying through the air and leaving him unprotected.

And.

" _Sectumsempra_!" someone yelled, and white light hurtled Harry's way, hitting him square in the chest. He staggered backwards, first in surprise, and then in pain as blood spurted from his chest as if he'd just been slashed by an invisible sword.

Oh.

He dropped to the ground, landing hard on his back and ending all spellwork as all the students could just stare at the fallen boy lying on the grass, blood soaking his clothing.

"Harry!" Hermione screamed from somewhere, deviating from the plan and revealing herself from under the Cloak of Invisibility and running towards him. Screw the war games. Screw _everything_.

Harry was halfway to passing out, but he held onto consciousness as hard as he could.

Jack reached Harry first, moving to kneel at his side, his eyes wide in terror. "Harry? Are you okay?" he hurried, which was a really stupid question given the circumstances. "You're - Merlin, there's so much blood," he said, his hands moving to try to stem the flow from the boy's chest. That was what people did, didn't they?

Harry just looked at him, his eyes unfocused and blood-shot.

Jack looked around, looking for _something_. He'd never heard a spell like that before. Shit, there was so much blood. Where was it all coming from?

Where was help? Where was Snape?

Harry clutched onto Jack's forearm, coughing up blood. "You - you have to get the flag," he forced out.

Jack shook his head hurriedly. "Are you bloody insane? I can't just leave you here," he said; "Somebody - some... Hermione!"

The witch was suddenly at Harry's side, tears in her eyes and her expression distraught.

Harry kept his ghostly gaze on Jack. "Finish it."

Jack shook his head again. The boy was certifiably insane. Here was concrete proof. "I don't even have my wand."

"Take mine," he said, without thinking. Maybe it was the blood loss. "Take it."

Jack wanted to argue again, but he reasoned that the quickest way to get Harry help was to finish the games once and for all. So, taking a deep breath, he picked up Harry's wand, expecting for it to feel foreign in hand. It didn't. He stood up and zeroed in on the flag.

When Hermione had revealed herself, she'd also revealed Greengrass, who was now just one of many watching the scene unfold in the middle of the courtyard.

Rather easily, Jack raised his arm and Stunned both Ron and Pansy Parkinson, dropping them with the same spell. Next, he hit Neville and Terry, catching them both off guard and ending the other team's chances of ever winning.

Greengrass looked at him in amazement, but he was already turning back to Harry.

"Get the damn flag," was all he said to the Slytherin, which kickstarted her into action and she ran towards the fountain to retrieve the flag. As soon as her hands closed around the pole, a siren went off, signalling the end of the games.

Jack barely heard it.

"We have to get him to the Hospital Wing now," Hermione told Jack through her sobs. "I don't - I can't - do you have one of those Portkeys on you?"

Jack fished in his pocket for one of the little buttons, which he handed to Hermione.

She took Harry's wand from Jack, mumbled something he couldn't hear and then clipped the button onto Harry's shirt. "Stay awake," she said, slapping Harry's cheek. "Stay awake," she said again. "If you arrive at the Hospital Wing unconscious, an automatic letter is going to go out to your father."

If that wasn't enough to keep the Gryffindor awake, Hermione didn't know what was.

She kept her hands on his chest, as if she could somehow hold him together.

He just about managed a smile at her, before they both disappeared from sight, leaving Jack to deal with the aftermath.

* * *

Harry spent the night in the Hospital Wing. He was, undoubtedly, the most severely injured, but Padma Patil and Zacharias Smith also had to be treated for minor injuries. Harry received so many visitors - even some he hadn't really spoken to before - that Madam Pomfrey even had to usher them out when Harry's eyes started to droop. The boy needed his rest.

Hermione was the last to bid him goodnight, gently kissing his forehead and then leaving him to sleep off all the potions to which the resident MediWitch subjected him. Hermione couldn't quite wrap her head about what happened near the end of the games and nobody seemed to want to answer her questions. She _knew_ spells, but she'd never seen one that literally -

She choked up just thinking about it. Her poor, perfect boy.

Hermione walked slowly, her thoughts stalling her progress back to Gryffindor Tower. Jack was the one who told her about what happened after they'd disappeared from the courtyard, but he'd made sure to skip over mentioning the person responsible for the spell that -

She forced herself to take a deep breath.

Hermione just turned the corner away from the Hospital Wing when she came face-to-face with a statue-like figure leaning against the wall, who happened to be their Defence professor. He looked solemn for some reason, which just confused Hermione.

Before it angered her.

"Miss Granger," Snape said when he spotted her.

"Professor," she said tensely.

"How is Mr Potter doing?" he asked, dropping his gaze.

"He's _fine_ ," she said curtly; "no thanks to you."

Snape lifted himself off the wall and turned to face her. "The culprit has been significantly punished," he said. "And the disqualification has been affected immediately."

"I don't care about that," Hermione snapped, losing her cool in a way she'd never done with a professor before. "I want to know why you didn't come. Harry was _hurt_ ; he was _bleeding_ , and where were you? Where were you?"

Snape's gaze met hers for a moment. "I made myself perfectly clear, Miss Granger, that I would intervene only when the ending siren sounded."

Hermione shook her head. "That's not good enough!" she practically screechedd. "He was _bleeding_. He was - " her voice caught. "He was hit by a Curse that wasn't on the list. A _Curse_ , Professor, not just any spell. Everybody saw. Didn't you? Didn't you see?" She was crying now, her emotions getting the better of her. "Didn't you see him lying there, bleeding to death? Didn't you see?"

Snape stepped towards her, and then braved pulling her into an embrace that felt foreign to both of them.

"Why didn't you come?" Hermione cried into his robes. "You were supposed to come. You were supposed to save him."

Snape said nothing. What could he say? What excuse could he give?

Hermione let out a few last sobs before she pulled back and wiped at her eyes, thoroughly embarrassed by her outburst. She blinked a few times, composing herself. "I'm sorry, Professor," she said quietly.

"It is I who should be sorry, Miss Granger," he said solemnly.

Hermione pressed her lips together, unsure what to say.

Snape stepped back and cleared his throat. "I believe it is almost curfew," he said. "You should be getting back to Gryffindor Tower."

"Of course," Hermione said, thankful for the opportunity to take her leave. "Night, Professor."

"Night, Miss Granger."

Hermione didn't think she'd encountered a stranger incident in the Castle. Truly, she didn't know what to make of it. If anyone had told her she would break down in front of Severus Snape and somehow have him comfort her, she would have laughed in his or her face.

The Common Room was relatively empty, with most students already heading up to their dormitories. There were two boys sitting on the couch opposite the fireplace, and they both looked up when she entered. One looked horrified and guilt-ridden, and the other looked nervous and concerned.

"I don't want to hear it," Hermione said before either of them could even speak, and then she rushed up to her own dormitory. She wasn't sure if she would be able to get any sleep - she was sure she would have nightmares about Harry's blood on her hands for days to come - but she was going to try.

She failed.

By morning, Hermione was feeling miserable, and the fact that the incident in the courtyard was the talk of the Castle definitely wasn't helping. _Everyone_ knew. Not only had majority of students witnessed Harry take down at least five of his classmates, or Jack expertly drop another four like a professional, but they'd seen Ron Weasley use a deadly curse he'd never used before on a fellow classmate.

The Gryffindor was vilified endlessly by all the Houses.

Luna was busy making plans.

After classes let out for the afternoon, Hermione went straight to the Hospital Wing to keep Harry company and help him catch up with the work he'd missed. She didn't tell him about the breakdown in front of Snape because she didn't yet know what to make of it.

Really, she was content to spend the whole day in there with him, even skipping the Christmas Party, but Harry was having none of it. He was insistent he would be accompanying her. It actually turned into quite the debate with Madam Pomfrey, but she eventually conceded, as long as Harry agreed to her conditions.

He happily did. He promised his girlfriend a Christmas Party, and he was going to deliver. If he was going to spend Christmas Break without her, then he was going to use every opportunity he could to see her all dressed up and _happy_.

Harry didn't expect that convincing Madam Pomfrey would be easier than convincing Hermione.

"I'm just not feeling up to it," Hermione told him, unable to look him in the eye. "I'm not in the mood for celebrating right now."

"Granger," he murmured, reaching for her hand as he sat up on his hospital bed. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean what's going on?" she asked, her voice tense. "You just spent the night in the Hospital Wing and now you want me to go and _celebrate_. Seriously?"

He nodded. "Seriously, yes."

She frowned. "Harry."

"Hermione."

Her eyes narrowed at the use of her first name. "That's not fair."

"I love you."

She let out a tired breath, before she leaned forward to kiss him quickly, relishing in the warmth of his lips. It was in stark contrast to the cold blue of the previous day. "Fine," she grumbled.

His face split into a grin. "That's the spirit."

She shook her head at his antics, absently checking her watch. If they were going to be going to this stupid party, then she had to start getting ready right now. She had her hair to do, and she had to get a hold of Luna and -

Harry's smile didn't once falter, particularly when her brow furrowed. "Go on then," he said knowingly. "I'll see you at seven thirty in the Common Room."

Hermione waited a beat before she stood up, and started to pack away her books. "Can I borrow your Communication Mirror?" she asked, not knowing how else to get a hold of Luna.

"Of course," he said. "It should be under my pillow." Then: " _Our_ pillow."

She blushed. "How do you know I snuck into your bed?"

"I know you," he said. "But then I kind of also had the Map."

"Creeper."

"Only when my girlfriend is you."

She just shook her head, finishing up with her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. "Seven thirty, you said?"

"I'll be the ruggedly handsome boy waiting for you," he said sweetly, his eyes begging for a kiss that she was all too willing to give him. And then she was going, Harry just watching her go.

He had a couple of hours to kill and, if he was going to get through the Party, he was going to have to get his rest. Which was why he caught a nap.

When he came to, Madam Pomfrey made him drink three potions before she let him even begin to get ready. She had an elf fetch his clothes for him and he showered and got dressed in the Hospital Wing so she could assess his energy levels and the state of the still-healing wound across his chest.

"I want you back by ten thirty," Madam Pomfrey told him. "And, if you start to feel tired, you come back immediately. Don't force yourself, Mr Potter."

All he did was nod, grinning at her.

She raised her eyebrows. "Just because you look handsome, doesn't mean you don't have to listen to me."

"I promise I'll be careful," he said.

She pat his shoulder. "Now, off you go," she said, smiling at him. "Enjoy your night."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," he said sweetly, before he left the Hospital Wing for the first time since Hermione's Portkey had dropped him into the centre of the room after -

Harry sighed.

No.

He wasn't going to think about all of that tonight.

When he reached Gryffindor Tower, he was borderline exhausted. There were a lot of stairs between the Hospital Wing and the Gryffindor Common Room and he had to wait a while to catch his breath. It wouldn't do to worry Hermione unnecessarily. She already looked haunted enough. But he needn't have worried, because she wasn't yet in the Common Room when he finally entered. Several people looked at him, a few even greeted him.

Hermione mentioned that he and Jack's prowess with their wands - well, Harry's wand - was the talk of the Castle but he didn't have the time or energy to focus on all of that right now. Dean waved at him from his position in front of the fireplace, and Harry just managed to wave back before his gaze was drawn towards the girls' stairs.

Merlin Almighty.

Hermione stood on the last step, her eyes searching the room until they settled on him, a smile spreading across her face. All Harry could do was stare at her. Sweet Jesus, the girl was beautiful. It actually wasn't even fair. Like, what was she trying to do to him?

"Whoa, Hermione," Dean said, standing up to take in Hermione's appearance properly. "It looks like you've broken Harry."

The girl giggled shyly as she stepped into the Common Room, her red dress shifting as she walked towards him.

"Granger," Harry finally said, just barely recovering, as his eyes widened. "Goodness gracious - you're so damn beautiful!"

Hermione shook her head, blushing madly. "Harry," she murmured, ducking her head to hide her face.

"Don't you dare," he said, lifting her chin with his forefinger. "I want to see that pretty face of yours." He smiled at her in a way she'd never seen before, and she vowed never to hide from this perfect boy. How did she end up so lucky? Truly.

Harry pecked her lips once, twice, before he pulled back.

"Shall we?" she suggested.

Harry nodded, stepping back and putting out his arm for her.

Hermione linked her arm with his, and allowed him to lead the way out of the Common Room. He appeared steady, strong, and his eyes were clear. She'd been worried. Well, she still was.

"How are you feeling?" she asked after a while, unable to resist.

Harry stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "I'm feeling fine," he said. "Madam Pomfrey already drilled it into me, you know? They second I feel tired, I should rest. And then, at the end of the night, I have to return to my isolated prison."

She squeezed his arm. "And there I was thinking I would get to have my dirty way with you."

He let out a long breath. "You _better,_ before we break up for Christmas," he made sure to tell her.

"I'm working on fitting you into my schedule."

"Ouch."

She giggled softly. "You love me."

"I do," he agreed; "I really do."

Hermione tugged on his arm, and quickly kissed him, knowing that she wouldn't be able to when they reached Slughorn's office. Really, Hermione thought she knew what to expect given the number of times the Slug Club met for dinners, but she was wrong. Very wrong.

The office was transformed, with green, red and gold draping hanging from the ceiling, dim lighting and filled with people in dress robes of some of the brightest colours she'd ever seen. The air was smoky, and there was loud music playing from somewhere in the corner of the room. It was beautiful, really. Stuffy, but beautiful.

"Are those House Elves carrying the trays?" Hermione asked.

Harry, wisely, didn't respond to the question as he turned to his right. "Hey, look, it's Luna," he said, and then led her further into the room towards their Ravenclaw friend, who was getting herself something to drink.

When Hermione mentioned to Harry that Luna didn't think he would approve of her asking Neville to the Party; Harry said nothing. He vowed not to get involved, and he was going to stand by it. They would figure it out. He was sure of it.

When Slughorn spotted the three of them, he made sure to introduce them to his guests. They were reintroduced to Eldred Worple and his guest, Sanguini, who they were surprised to learn was a vampire. Luna was definitely interested, Harry intrigued and Hermione wary.

They met with Potions Masters and reporters for the Daily Prophet, before they bumped into Jack, who was just trying to escape Worple. Hermione couldn't help her own amusement at Jack's discomfort. The author was relentless.

"Save me," he murmured, looking at them all with wide eyes.

Luna giggled.

Harry wasn't sure what he was feeling when it came to Jack in this moment, so he said nothing. It was a good thing too, because their attention was drawn to a commotion near the entrance of the office.

"Is that Malfoy?" Jack asked, knowing that Molfoy wasn't part of the Slug Club.

"He looks ill," Hermione answered. "What is he doing here?"

Harry involuntarily stepped closer, wanting to hear what was being discussed but Hermione placed a hand on his arm to keep him from drawing attention to them.

"I found him sneaking about," Filch was telling Slughorn. "It seems _someone_ was trying to get into your Christmas Party."

"Oh ho ho," Slughorn laughed. "Can't blame the young lad, can you? We're having quite the party here! Let the boy stay."

Snape narrowed his eyes in slight irritation as he stood to Slughorn's left. "Of course not," he said coldly. "I'll get him out of your hair," he said flatly, before he was leading Malfoy out of the enlarged office.

Jack and Harry immediately followed, both of them hanging back enough not to be noticed by the Slytherin pair.

Snape had a firm grip on Malfoy's arm and he was speaking in a hushed tone. "What are you trying to do?" he asked, which they all knew was a rhetorical question. "I am _trying_ to help you, Draco. You have to stop this. I made the Unbreakable Vow - "

Malfoy forced himself out of Snape's hold, straightening out his clothing. "I don't need your protection," he said as calmly as he could. "I was given a job to do, and I intend to do it."

"You're going to end up getting yourself killed," Snape said.

Malfoy dropped his gaze, _those_ specific words hitting home in a way that nobody anticipated. He shook his head. "It's my job," he said gravely. "He gave it to me, and I'm going to do it. I have a plan - "

"Whatever your plan is; it won't work," Snape snapped. "Haven't you already failed?"

Malfoy seemed to snap to attention. "I have a better plan, and it's going to work. It's just taking a bit longer than I thought it would."

Jack and Harry exchanged a look.

Snape clucked his tongue. "You are stubborn and foolish, just getting yourself involved in things you should never have been involved in."

"I don't have a choice," Malfoy said, his voice strained. If the Potters were standing any closer, they might have seen the shiftiness - the obvious fear - in Draco Malfoy's eyes. "He _chose_ me. I _can't_ fail. Not again. He'll - "

Snape shook his head. He clearly wanted to say so much more but he held his tongue. The boy wasn't listening, and he wasn't going to waste his breath when Malfoy was convinced this _thing_ was expected of him. Voldemort succeeded in instilling fear in the boy, and he could only imagine what Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy were going through knowing that this burden was placed on their son.

So, instead of breaking into a lecture, he gripped Malfoy's arm again. "Come," he said, starting to walk and dragging the Sixth-Year along. "We'll see how much planning you can do when you're in detention," he muttered. "Ungrateful little brat."

Jack and Harry just watched them go, neither of them moving to follow. They'd heard more than enough.

Harry stepped back, breathing out. "So, it _was_ him," he said.

Jack nodded. "It has to be," he agreed. "He's the one who _Imperiused_ Katie."

"Or Madam Rosmerta."

"Or both," Jack murmured.

They stood in silence for the longest time, each of them caught up in their own thoughts. Harry _knew_ that it didn't matter if they knew it was Malfoy. If Snape knew, then it was probable that Dumbledore knew as well.

"Dumbledore knows it was meant for him," Harry eventually said, the words making him feel short of breath. "The necklace. It was an attempt on his life."

Jack nodded. "He said it was a crude and desperate attempt."

Harry stared at the empty space that Snape and Malfoy just vacated. "Malfoy _does_ sound desperate."

"Looks it too."

"Hermione was right - he does look ill," he said. "Is that what desperation does to a person?"

"He won't succeed because of it."

"It won't stop him from trying," Harry muttered; "and others are likely to get hurt in the process."

"We have to keep a closer eye on him."

Harry grit his teeth, his irritation suddenly spiking. "It seems we have to keep a closer eye on _lots_ of people," he muttered.

Jack flinched before he turned to face Harry fully. They hadn't yet had the chance to talk about the ending of the war games and Jack reasoned this was as good a time as any. "Harry," he started; "It was - he never meant to - look, he's sorry. He's practically distraught."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

"He read it in a book," Jack explained, just managing to ignore the bite in Harry's tone. "He panicked, it just flew out of his mouth. He didn't know what it would do."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better, Jack?" he asked, his breathing increasing. "I could have - he could have - "

"I know," Jack said solemnly, dropping his gaze. "I just, if you'd just let him explain, maybe - "

Harry, suddenly fighting off a wave of dizziness, shook his head, forcing Jack to put out an arm to steady him. Harry's body was trying to tell him it was enough, and he would do well to listen.

"Are you okay?" Jack asked.

Harry shook him off. "I'm fine," he said. "And Ron's conscience really isn't my problem."

"I know that," Jack said. "I just - "

"You just what?"

" _I'm_ sorry," he said.

"Why are _you_ sorry?"

"I don't know," he admitted, sighing heavily. "I just - I don't know. You seem mad at me as well, but it's different to how - I don't know," he finished lamely.

Harry nodded once, waited a beat, and then surprised them both with his next words. "I want the book," he said.

"What book?"

"Where he found the spell," he clarified. "I want to see the book."

Jack frowned. "It's just an old, beatun-up Potions textbook."

"It doesn't matter," Harry said. "I want to see it."

Jack audibly swallowed. "Well, Snape kind of confiscated it," he informed him. "It's doubtful it'll ever get given back."

"Oh."

They just stared at each other for another long moment, before they were interrupted by a familiar voice, automatically making Harry smile.

"Hey," Hermione said, moving to stand at Harry's side. She slipped an arm around his waist, silently giving him the support he would never ask for. Then: "Are you ready to call it a night?" she asked.

For a moment, Harry wanted to shake his head, but he thought better of it.

At his nod, Hermione led him back into Slughorn's office, where they were quick to bid their professor a goodnight and locate Luna, who was locked in a conversation with a clearly drunk Professor Trelawney. For some reason, Luna looked very engaged in whatever the Divination professor was saying.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Harry asked Hermione.

"Could be anything," she replied, smirking slightly.

It took Luna a moment to notice them, and then she excused herself from her conversation to make her way over to them.

"We're going to head out," Hermione told Luna when she was close enough to hear. "I have to get this rat back to Madam Pomfrey before she kills us both."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not an invalid, you know?"

"You look it," Luna commented. Her mouth was smiling but her eyes were concerned. To her, Harry looked pale, and there was a bead of sweat above his eyebrows. "I think I'm going to stay for a while. I've never met a vampire before. My father would hate if I passed up the opportunity to ask questions."

Harry smiled at her. "We wouldn't want that."

"Will you be okay?" Hermione asked.

Luna nodded, glancing at a point over Hermione's shoulders for a moment. "Will you two?"

Hermione nodded. "See you tomorrow before you leave?"

"Definitely."

Luna hugged them both, gentler with Harry than with Hermione, and then the two Gryffindors were on their way. Hermione made sure to walk slowly, because she could feel Harry leaning more and more on her with every step he took. She knew he didn't want her to see him this way, but she'd literally seen him _bleeding_.

This was nothing.

"So," Hermione said, carefully maneuvering the endless stairs. "I may or may not have done a thing."

He let out an amused breath. "You're spending too much time with Luna."

She squeezed his waist. "It's nothing bad, Potter," she assured him. "I just, well, I kind of packed your trunk for you."

He looked at her with the kindest eyes, his love for her clearly shining through. "You did?"

"I just - I didn't want you to have to worry about it tomorrow," she told him. "Or at all, really."

"Have I told you how much I love you?"

She shook her head once, before she reached up to kiss him, messing with their momentum for a moment. "If I didn't know you any better; I'd think you were just saying these things to get kisses out of me."

"And I think you're just doing all these lovely things so I tell you I love you."

She giggled. "We're quite the pair, aren't we?"

"We are," he agreed, leaning on her that bit more. "Sorry," he whispered, blushing slightly.

"It's okay," she assured him. "You let me lean on you all the time; it's about time you lean on me. I've got you."

"Good," he murmured; "because I'm exhausted."

Hermione squeezed his waist again. "We're almost there," she whispered.

In all his life, Harry Potter didn't think he would ever be relieved to see his hospital bed. He practically collapsed onto it, letting out a tired, painful breath. Before he could even close his eyes, Madam Pomfrey was upon them, ready with her endless potions. Harry didn't even put up a fight as he drank them all, grimacing at their taste.

The boy was asleep before he could even change into his pyjamas.

Hermione suppressed a smile as she removed his shoes, undid his tie and removed it. She took off his glasses and set them down on the table beside the bed. He looked so young without his glasses, like a child, pale and unassuming. She liked this look on him; this _peace_.

"Harry," she whispered, absently running a hand through his hair. "I've got you," she assured him. She bent forward to kiss his hairline, letting her lips linger for the longest moment, before she stood, straightened out her clothing and then left the Hospital Wing.

Hermione didn't feel as hopeless as she did the night before, but she couldn't mistake the feeling of devastation that was threatening to overwhelm her. She _knew_ what came with Harry Potter. He'd told her the stories of his exploits against Voldemort and his followers, but having one of their own hurt him like that forced her to take notice. It didn't matter where the danger was.

Life with Harry Potter would always be like this, and she wasn't sure how she was supposed to survive it.

Once again, she had a fitful sleep, her nightmares consisting of dead green eyes and blood on her hands. She woke up in a sweat, her breathing hard and her heart racing. She checked the time, both grateful and disappointed to see that it was already the morning.

She practically crawled out of bed, her focus on getting through the morning without incident. And, for the most part, it _did_.

After breakfast, she headed to the Hospital Wing just in time for Harry to be properly discharged. He was dramatic about it, of course, absently joking about how much he was going to miss Madam Pomfrey. He wished her a happy holidays, before he let Hermione escort him back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Are you going to tell your mother about this?" Hermione asked him as they walked.

"It's my understanding that Luna already did," he said, reaching for her hand. "I suspect I'll hear an earful when I get home."

"Why you?"

"I'm supposed to be _better_ ," he said, dropping his gaze. "I should never have been caught off guard like that."

Hermione bit her tongue. She suspected that this was a feeling that Jack was also dealing with. He should never have allowed himself to be disarmed. Perhaps a change of topic was required. "I, for one, think that the Christmas Break is coming at just the right time."

"Why is that?" he asked.

"Maybe by the time we come back, all these girls will stop staring at my boyfriend like he's something to eat."

Harry let out a laugh. "It comes with the territory, Granger," he teased.

"Hmm," she sounded, suddenly dragging him down a corridor that decidedly wasn't on the way to Gryffindor Tower.

"What the - " he protested, before he figured out just where she was taking him. "Why, Miss Granger," he murmured. "If you wanted me in a broom closet, all you had to do was ask. There's no need for manhandling."

"Shut up," was all she could say when they finally reached an empty broom closet. She checked her watch once, closed the door behind them and made sure the boy had something to remember her by during the Break.

Several hours later, on the Hogsmeade Station platform, Harry Potter was _still_ blushing. He couldn't stop himself from remembering the feel of her hands, the smell of her; the taste of her.

Hermione was scowling at him. "Get it together, Potter," she said. "At least _try_ to act like you're a good boy."

"Oh, but I'm not," he murmured, and Hermione let out a laugh.

"Believe me, I know."

He kissed her cheek, just as the Hogwarts Express sounded, startling them both. He ran a hand through his hair. "I'll write as soon as I get home."

"I'll be waiting."

"I'll see you when I get back," he said, pulling her into a lengthy hug. Then: "Are you sure you don't want to come with me?" He had to ask the question again. The idea of leaving her here just didn't sit well with him.

"Harry," she said.

"I had to try," he confessed, blushing that bit more. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'm going to miss you too."

They shared a kiss that was probably a little too heated for public, but neither of them cared.

Harry tried to prolong his departure as much as possible, but Luna and Neville were forced to hurry them along. The farewell was quick; three of the Mosstroopers had a train to catch.

And the fourth had a trunk to pack.


	21. The Last Of The Real Ones

AN: This story turns a year old today. Thank you for sticking with it. Happy Valentine's Day, and yay for Champion's League! Hopefully my team can win tonight.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-One: The Last of the Real Ones**

Harry couldn't shake the uneasy feeling as he made his way to the compartment he would be sharing with Neville and Luna for the trip back to London. He didn't _want_ to leave Hermione behind, but he got the sense that this was something she felt she _had_ to do, for whatever reason. She would fill him in through her letters, or he would learn about it when he returned to school. Somehow, he just had to trust that she knew what she was doing.

When Harry arrived at the designated compartment, only Neville was inside. "Luna _is_ on the train, right?" he questioned as he entered and dropped down onto the soft cushioned seat opposite his friend. He was pretty sure he'd seen the Ravenclaw climb onto the train, even though he'd been distracted by Hermione's dangerous mouth and eternal eyes.

"She is," Neville assured him. "She's just doing... things."

Harry took the fact that Neville couldn't meet his gaze to mean something. "Things? What things?" He was met with silence. "Neville? Where's Luna?"

"Somewhere."

"Somewhere where?"

"Somewhere."

Harry blinked. "Is she doing a Mosstrooper thing?" he asked. No response. "Does this _thing_ have anything to do with Ron Weasley?"

Neville shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Neville."

"Harry."

Feeling oddly defeated, Harry sighed heavily. "Is she doing something bad?"

"Or good, depending on how you look at it."

He sighed again. "Aren't you just _so_ tired?"

Neville looked at him curiously. "Every day," he said truthfully. "I'm _exhausted_."

"We really need a holiday, don't we?"

"We _really_ do."

Harry turned his gaze towards the window, taking in the scenery speeding past, and Neville did the same. The two of them were still sitting in silence when Luna made her return and, as much as Harry wanted to ask the question, he just couldn't. He didn't actually _want_ to know, which was very unlike him. Maybe he was just missing his girlfriend.

Luna sat down beside him, rested her head on his shoulder and sighed.

"Did you make it good?" Harry asked, unable to resist.

"It's Hermione approved," she said; "what do _you_ think?"

Harry heart twisted at the mention of Hermione, though he didn't dwell. "How long?"

"Just you wait until we get back, Harry," she said. "Truly, _nobody_ is ever going to mess with you ever again."

Harry was inclined to believe her, because Luna was probably more livid about the entire ending of the war games than he, Hermione and his mother combined. Hermione told him that it would do them both good to sit down and talk about it, but he wasn't entirely sure what to say to her. Somehow, he just knew they would find their way to the topic of Neville and how Luna didn't feel comfortable asking him to be her date to the Slug Club Party... because of _Harry_. He thought, at least. He had a feeling there was something else going on; something he _knew_ but wouldn't allow himself to acknowledge.

Because now he had to deal with an apathetic Neville, a scheming Luna, a secretive Hermione, an unknown family situation, and he was just _so tired_. He really needed a holiday, but even he knew he couldn't afford to lay about the entire Break. Something was coming; something he couldn't put a finger on or even remotely understand, but it was coming, and he had to be prepared. Sirius and his mother had to make sure he was ready for _when_ it came. They had to be ready too.

They _all_ did. The Order, the Ministry, the students... the entire world.

Harry let out a breath, his body relaxing as his eyes slipped shut. He revelled in the soft weight of Luna against him and the soft tapping of Neville's foot on the carpet, almost lulling him into slumber. As much as things continued to change all around him, moments like these mercifully stayed exactly the same. These were his two best friends and, whatever happened in his life, they would always mean the world to him. So, yes, he _had_ to be ready because, even though he couldn't be sure how or why he knew it, it _would_ be up to him to protect them.

Somebody had to.

* * *

If Hermione believed that the festive season would be any different before his mother and Sirius were officially together, she was mistaken. If anything, the entire experience was _less weird_ than Harry imagined it would be. Sirius and his mother really didn't act any differently towards each other or towards him, but Harry got the sense that there was something important that they wanted to talk to him about.

Well, _Sirius_ did.

Harry was home for all ofthree days before Sirius seemed to work up the courage to broach the topic he'd been toying with for quite some time - years, really. He was forced to wait until Lily was out of the house and Harry was awake and focused enough for a serious conversation about the future of their family.

Sirius found the teenager in the living room, absently flicking through channels on the television. He looked amazingly relaxed, stretched out across the couch as if he didn't have a care in the world. Well, to the untrained eye, it definitely appeared that way, but Sirius couldn't mistake the slight crease in his forehead, which he imagined was either to do with Hermione Granger or Voldemort himself.

Harry'd returned to Surrey _different_ somehow, though Sirius wasn't sure why or how that could be. Okay, he reasoned it _was_ probably to do with the war games but it was something more. He'd come home and demanded more lessons, specifically related to protection, deflection and healing. Well, Lily had to help him with the last part, but Sirius was already making plans to up their training. He suspected Harry might have one of those _feelings_ about what was surely to come, and he wanted to be prepared.

"Hey," Sirius said, moving into the room and dropping down into an armchair. "What are you doing right now?"

Harry absently sat up, dropping his feet to the ground. "Nothing," he said. "Why?"

"Well, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

Before Harry could give him his full attention, the sound of the phone ringing startled him, which made Sirius laugh. Harry shot him a glare before he jumped up and went to answer the phone in the foyer. It was probably his mother calling anyway, possibly to tell them that she was running late or something.

It wasn't.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Harry?"

He immediately tensed. "Granger?"

She let out a cry that sent a shock wave through him.

"Granger?" he asked, panicked. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? What's wrong? Hermione, what happened?"

"Is it me, Harry?" she asked, her voice catching. "Am I the one who makes them stay away?"

At the sound of that, he made the decision: he was going to see her, whether she liked it or not. But. Where was she? She couldn't be at Hogwarts if she was calling him on the phone. "Talk to me, Granger," he said, his tone of voice surprisingly calm. "Are we talking about your parents?"

She hiccupped. "They wrote to me a few weeks ago, some time after my birthday, not that they remembered. They mentioned that they'd be coming home for Christmas, and they wanted to spend it with me."

"Oh, babe, why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to get my hopes up," she admitted quietly. "That always leads to disappointment."

Harry was pacing now, trying to keep calm.

"We wrote for a while. I told them all about the work we've been doing, and my father gave me some pointers about the war games," she explained. "I even felt like their kid for a moment; like they were paying enough attention to be proud of me."

His heart was breaking. God, it _ached_ for her.

"I thought, you know, they would like to know how the games went," she said sadly. "Why do I keep doing this to myself, Harry? Why do I keep trying, keep believing, when the whole damn world already knows that I'm not worth it?"

"Don't you dare say that, Hermione Granger!" he practically hissed, suddenly frustrated that he was _here_ , and not _there_. "You are so worth it. You are worth the great big world and so much more."

She was fully crying now, her sobs penetrating his heart.

"Is there something wrong with me?" she asked, her voice breaking. "Did I do something so horrible that they just can't see past it? I just don't understand why they can't just love me? Is it so unthinkable to love me?"

"No, it's not," he told her, his voice rushed. His panic was getting the better of him. "It's not you, Granger," he told her. "It's them. They're the ones who are incapable of love. It has nothing to do with you."

"But it has to, Harry," she argued, unable to see reason in her state of distress. "It's _me_ , Harry. It has to be."

"No, it's not," he repeated, more conviction in his tone. "I know it, Granger. I know it."

"But how?"

"Because _I_ love you!"

Oh yeah. Harry Potter was in a full-blown panic. She just didn't sound... _right_.

"God, Hermione, I love you so much," he continued. "I tried to keep it inside; I tried not to overwhelm you with it; I know you know that but you and your beautiful brown eyes wormed your way into my heart and it was bursting to get out. I love you. _I love you_ , and I care about you and I want you to be happy. Please, just, _believe me_."

"Harry," she said, her voice sounding strangled in her throat.

"There are _so many_ people who love and care about you," he pushed on. "Heck, even Ginny loves you, Jack, Ron, Neville, Luna, all of us. My mum loves you, sometimes more than I think she loves me."

She was silent for the longest time that Harry was convinced that they'd lost connection. "You're ridiculous," she eventually said. Deflection at its best. At least she was somewhat back to acting like herself. He'd take deflection any day if he didn't have to deal with whatever _that_ was before.

"And Sirius," he added, his voice catching. "Granger, don't you get it? You are so loved. So very loved. We're your family. Right now, your parents don't matter. _You_ do. To me, and to the rest of us."

She sniffed.

Then, throwing caution to the wind, Harry said: "Come spend Christmas with me."

"What?"

"Right now," he added. "I should have been more forceful before, but just pack up your things and I'll come get you."

"What?"

"Please," he practically begged. "Come spend Christmas with us. You are so loved here."

"Harry?"

"I mean it, Granger," he said sternly, refusing to take 'no' for an answer. "Gather your things and I will come and fetch you. We want you here. _I_ want you here with me."

She was silent on the other end of the line, and he just knew that she was considering it. That was a start, at least, and, if he knew her as well as he claimed he did; he knew exactly what she was thinking.

"You wouldn't be imposing," he said, before she convinced herself that this was a bad idea. "My mum was even asking me when you're coming to visit. So, now you can come visit and _stay_. You'll have your own room, of course, and you'll get to be with us for the holidays." The last thing he wanted was for her to be alone. He'd even prefer it if she went to the Burrow or to Jack's than spend her Christmas _alone_ wherever she was. "Please, Hermione."

She let out a breath. That wasn't fair. He knew that she wouldn't be able to say no when he brought out her first name like that. The boy played dirty. "Okay."

His eyes widened, and he was suddenly glad that she couldn't see him. "Okay?"

"Okay," she repeated.

"Okay," he echoed. Then: "I'm on my way."

* * *

If Harry was surprised when Hermione told him she was actually in Oxfordshire and not at Hogwarts as she originally told him; he didn't say. When he hung up the phone, he raced upstairs to fetch his coat and wallet. He reasoned that he'd take the Knight Bus to get to her. He didn't want Sirius to be around when they had the inevitable conversation he and Hermione were bound to have.

After a rushed goodbye to Sirius, Harry was sprinting out of the house to the sidewalk, his wand already ejected from its holster and held out in front of him. The Knight Bus arrived almost immediately and he struggled not to recoil from the sight of it. And, he supposed, the smell. He hopped on, mumbled a greeting to Stan and settled himself in what could only loosely be referred to as a seat.

Harry braced himself, asked for his destination, and then they were off. He'd planned to use the trip to think about what to say when he got to Oxfordshire but he was too busy trying not to end up on the other side of the bus. He'd never been to Hermione's house before, and he wasn't sure what to expect.

But, like Surrey, her neighbourhood seemed so... _normal_.

The house was large, white in colour with a bright red door at its front. It seemed so unlike Hermione, but then so like her as well. As he walked towards the front door, he started to feel nervous and he wasn't even sure why. This was Hermione.

No.

This was a Hermione Granger on the edge of _something_.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Harry knocked once, twice, three times before the red door opened to reveal the most beautiful, teary-eyed mess of a girl he'd ever seen. His eyes softened at the same time that his heart smiled.

"Oh, Hermione," he breathed, immediately stepping forward and wrapping her up in his arms.

Hermione's sobs returned immediately and she pressed herself tight to him, as if she could somehow crawl into him and stay protected. She felt him squeeze her tighter as he shifted them out of the doorway and shut the door with his foot.

Harry'd seen her tears before, but not like this.

Never like this.

"Granger," he whispered, kissing her hair and running his hands up and down her back. "Talk to me."

Whether she couldn't or she wouldn't, Hermione rather pressed kisses to his neck while squeezing him hard enough to hurt. Here was this human being whom she absolutely adored; who was _here_ , and she wasn't going to let go anytime soon.

"Hermione," he tried again, though he didn't dare try to release her. He just knew she wouldn't respond well to that.

She waited a beat before she spoke, her voice barely audible. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her breath hot against the skin of his neck.

Despite the situation, Harry had to smile. "Oh, crazy girl, what on earth could you possibly be sorry for right now?"

"Dragging you all the way here for something so stupid."

Harry bristled. "Firstly, you did not _drag_ me anywhere and, secondly, this isn't stupid." He rubbed her back one more time before he made the move to release her, surprised that she actually allowed him to. He just wanted to see her.

Hermione's hands reached out to touch his face. "You're here," she said.

He put his hands over hers. "I'm here."

"You came."

"Of course I did."

She shook her head as if she were trying to wrap her mind around the truth of that. "I missed you," she whispered.

"Not as much as I missed you, that's for sure," he said seriously. "Now, do you want to tell me what you're doing here instead of being at Hogwarts like you said you were?"

Hermione had the decency to blush, before she practically launched herself at him, her mouth covering his with the sole intention of distracting him while she formulated a suitable explanation for trying to hide the fact that she wanted to give her parents another chance from him. Of course, she spent an immeasurable amount of time trying to psycho-analyse her own decisions, but it was just too exhausting to deal with the plethora of confusing emotions she was feeling about her parents.

Harry let her distract him.

There were hands and tongues and Harry didn't even know what day it was anymore. She pushed him back against the the front door, her hands desperate in their want to undress him. To touch his skin; to feel his warmth.

"Granger," he murmured, sounding breathless.

"Hmm?" she sounded, pulling away to look at his flushed face.

He smiled warmly. "Not that I'm complaining, but you're being a terrible host."

"Right," she said with a laugh. "Would you like a tour of the house?"

"I'd love one."

She kissed him one more time, and then pulled back, grabbed his hand, and led him into the living room. "This is the living room, through there is the kitchen," she said, pointing to a door. "There's a dining room in there, a study. You've got the second living room." Tugging on his hand, she led the way upstairs. "Spare room here, bathroom, parents' room, and this is mine."

Harry could barely take it all in before he was pulled into Hermione's bedroom.

Hermione's bedroom.

His girlfriend's bedroom.

Despite himself, Harry felt his body start to heat up.

Even though it was her bedroom, it didn't feel very _lived in_. It felt temporary, as if she'd never truly allowed herself to call it home. Harry guessed that going to boarding school didn't really help with that, but it was still depressing to think about her. Really, besides her wall of books, the room could have belonged to anyone.

"I'm pretty much done with my packing," she said, moving towards an open tog bag on the end of her bed. "Just my toiletries left."

Harry nodded, suddenly unsure what to say. This entire house felt _empty_ , and it broke his heart knowing that she'd spent a few days in this place by herself. There weren't any decorations up, and it didn't feel at all festive. It didn't feel like a home, and it just reaffirmed his resolve to take her with him. He would show her a true, family Christmas, full of love and joy and happiness.

"Well, finish up," he said. "We're expected for dinner."

"When?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Uh, six thirty."

She checked her watch. "Hmm."

"Granger," he said, asking the question. "What?"

She raised her hand and crooked a finger, beckoning him over.

He stayed put. "What are you doing?"

"I have you alone in my house, and we're not expected anywhere for _two_ hours... what do you think I'm doing?"

Harry couldn't help his grin. "Oh, I see how it is," he said. " _This_ is why you dragged me all this way."

"Are you complaining?"

"Never," he murmured, before he rushed at her, his heart leaping at the sound of her excited shriek. She managed to dodge his initial lunge but Harry grabbed her waist and pulled her against him, causing them both to stumble and collapse on her bed.

Before Hermione could even complain, Harry's lips were on hers, silencing her. Hermione sighed into the kiss, relaxing into her mattress as the delicious weight of Harry's body settled down on her. She lifted her hands, cradling his face and looking him in the eye.

"I'm so glad you're here," she murmured breathlessly.

"Me too," he said, nipping at the skin of her neck, suddenly very keen on proving it to her.

* * *

"It's going to be okay," Harry said, taking hold of her hand and attempting to lead her through the front door of the house. "They already love you, you know that."

"I do know that," Hermione said softly. "But, I mean - "

"I love you," he whispered. "Now, come on, they're expecting us. Don't want to keep mother dearest waiting, now do we?"

Hermione tugged on his hand to stop him. "Can I ask you something?"

"Always."

"Tell me the truth; do you really want me here?"

"I've _always_ wanted you here, Granger," he told her seriously.

"Are you sure?"

He tugged her closer, absently placing a kiss against her temple. "I told you I've never been more sure of anything in my life, remember?" He smiled softly at her. "I mean what I say, and I say what I mean."

She breathed out, relaxing slightly. People who did that were difficult to find, and she was determined to hold onto this one.

Harry started them walking again, through the door and into the foyer. He could hear voices coming from somewhere further in the house, and that was where he led them after closing and locking the front door.

"Mum?" he called out.

"We're in here," Lily called back, her disembodied voice coming from the kitchen.

Harry picked up pace, tugging Hermione along, suddenly looking forward to having his girlfriend here for the holidays. "I hope you don't mind," he said; "I brought a visitor." He was beaming widely as he pushed open the kitchen door to find both his mum and Sirius bustling around the kitchen, preparing dinner.

Lily Evans dropped the dishcloth she was holding when she spotted Hermione, her face splitting into a wide grin. "Finally," she said, moving towards the young couple. "Welcome home, Hermione," she said, pulling the young witch into a hug. "I'm so glad you're here."

And, really, Hermione had no choice but to believe her.

* * *

Lily Potter didn't usually embarrass her son - that was more Sirius' job - but she was doing a good job of it. After dinner on Hermione's first night in Surrey, Lily sat both teenagers down and explained her rules. They would be sleeping in separate bedrooms, and there would be absolutely no _fooling around_ under her roof.

"Mum," Harry groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Please stop."

"As long as you know," Lily added.

"We know," Harry grumbled. "Now, please can I show Hermione to her room, and we can somehow try to forget that this conversation ever happened?"

Lily rolled her eyes at his dramatics. "By all means, off you go," she said. "I'll make hot chocolate."

Harry shot her a look, before he rose to his feet and dragged Hermione to hers. "Come on," he said, lifting her tog bag easily. He led the way up the stairs towards the bedrooms. "This is the bathroom," he said, indicating to a closed door on his right. "My room is this one on the left," he said, gesturing in its direction; "and this is where you'll be sleeping."

They walked into a simple room, purple and white in colour scheme, with two single beds, a small secretary desk and a tall, wooden wardrobe. Guest rooms generally weren't _personal_ , but he couldn't shake the feeling that even this room felt more lived in that Hermione's own bedroom.

"I know it's nothing fancy," Harry said, nervously running a hand through his hair as he set her tog bag down on one of the beds. "The bed isn't as big as yours, but we can push them together if you want," he offered, unable to look at her.

"It's perfect, Harry," she said, moving towards him. "Please, don't worry about me."

"Don't you get it, Granger," he said, shaking his head. "All I do is worry about you."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said with a shrug. "It kind of comes with the territory, you know? Being in love with you and all that."

Hermione couldn't resist kissing him. It was a quick one, particularly after the lecture they'd just received from his mother. If she hadn't found Harry's blush and indignant expression so amusing, she would have been utterly mortified by Lily's assumptions about their physical relationship. "Show me your room," she said when she pulled away, smiling widely at him.

He suddenly felt nervous again. "You're not allowed to laugh," he warned her.

"I would never," she said quickly, practically baulking at him. "Why on earth would I laugh?"

He just took hold of her hand and led her out of the room. They crossed the passage to his bedroom and walked through the open door, Harry absently flicking on the lights at the switch. Now, Hermione'd thought about what his room would look like, but this wasn't it. She wouldn't say she was surprised, but there was a part of her that was a little taken aback by the sight of it.

One of his walls - the one housing the window - was painted a dark blue, and another wall was covered in posters. Every kind of poster imaginable, really; from famous paintings to movie posters to posters of famous footballers. It was just so Muggle that Hermione couldn't help her smile. She secretly loved that he didn't shy away from his Muggle roots, which made her feel more comfortable and just prove to her that he truly was the one for her.

"You're smiling," he said, wary of her reaction.

She said nothing as she moved further into the room. Of course, he had quite the book collection as well, supported by a pretty large bookcase. His desk was a complete mess, loose pages littering its top and open texts hiding the light brown wood. His bed was roughly made, as if he'd just thrown the duvet over his mattress in a rush. She wouldn't go so far as to say the room was messy. No. It was just lived in. That was it. This room had _life_. Harry Potter lived here.

Her eyes shifted to his bedside table. "Oh," she said automatically. "Is that - "

He laughed nervously. "Well, I mean, I have a picture of my mum at school; it kind of makes sense that I would have you here, doesn't it?"

She moved towards the framed picture of herself, finding that she didn't even recognise the person looking back at her. Was that really what she looked like? "Where did you get this picture?" she asked.

"Colin," he said. "The boy may be borderline obsessed with Jack but he still takes pictures of other people. Surprising, isn't it?"

She smiled fondly, thinking about the excitable Fifth-Year. "I'll have to get one of you from him," she said.

"Better make it a good one, Granger."

"Of course," she said, glancing over her shoulder at him. "Everyone has to know just how handsome my boyfriend is."

He lifted his chin and puffed out his chest with the sole intention of making her laugh. He succeeded, the sound filling his heart and his brain, warming him from the inside out. "I'm so glad you're here."

She dropped her gaze, flushing instantly. "You keep saying that."

"And I keep meaning it, so you should just accept and believe it." At the shake of her head, his face split into a wide grin. "I mean, I _could_ be persuaded to prove it to you."

She stared at him for the longest time, her gaze holding his. Something was happening but she wouldn't be able to explain it. Was this it? Was this what falling in love felt like? How was she supposed to know? How did Harry know?

"Harry? Hermione? Hot chocolate," Lily shouted from downstairs, breaking the spell.

Harry just smiled at her. "She makes the best hot chocolate," he said. "With the little marshmallows and everything."

She couldn't help her giggle. "Lead the way, Mr Potter."

He held his hand out for her to take, and she did so with absolutely no hesitation. She felt calmer, more loved than she had in days, and she knew it had everything to do with this truly special boy, who could set her on fire with just one heated look. This feeling she was feeling; it had to be love, right? It couldn't really be anything else.

"Harry," she suddenly said, stopping him.

He looked back at her, his body relaxed and his eyes happy.

"I - " she started. "Uh, I'm really glad I'm here too," she said.

He grinned at her. "What did I tell you?"

* * *

Hermione couldn't remember ever having a _family_ Christmas. Sure, her parents had bought her more presents than she knew what to do with when she was little, but they'd never sat around the Christmas tree with mugs of hot chocolate and just _talked_. They never told stories; never teased each other and never laughed without abandon.

It was such a shock to her system, and all she could do was marvel at it.

There was so much laughter, so much happiness and love in that house that Hermione didn't even know how to handle it. Harry had no idea how lucky he was. Truly. Sure, he could complain about his abandonment and shunning, but what he gained in his mother's love, and Sirius' unwavering presence; he was probably the luckiest boy on the planet and he didn't even know it.

Or, he did.

She couldn't be sure.

Christmas Day came and went, and Harry kept her occupied and distracted enough that she didn't even think about her parents. He was so present, so _Harry_ that Hermione was suddenly so sure about him that she didn't even know what to do with the overwhelming feelings. How did people handle all of it? Really, how did Harry?

They exchanged small Christmas presents, a woolen scarf for him and a book for her. She didn't want anything more than his presence and his love and his obvious strength. Lily and Sirius had no such qualms, and they showered both teenagers in gifts - books and stationery and even jewellery. Hermione was overwhelmed but Harry stayed close to her side, reassuring her that this was just how things were in this family. Which she was now and would always be a part of. She had to hold back tears at the sound of that, and the two of them sneaked kisses under the mistletoe when nobody was looking.

From Luna and Neville, Hermione received a set of journals, which, Harry now knew, would be used for _Mosstrooping_ purposes. Really, he created a monster in Hermione and, if his mother thought _he_ was bad, she clearly knew nothing about how Hermione Granger's mind worked. Whatever was awaiting Ron when they returned to school... there was a part of Harry that even felt sorry for the redhead.

But hey. Right now, Ron Weasley wasn't his problem.

Despite the rocky start to the holiday, it was turning into Hermione's best one yet, and Harry was inclined to agree. He just hoped he could do something, anything, to make it even better for her. Well, he doubted he could make it any worse.

At least he was _here_.

"So," Harry said, dropping down onto the couch beside Hermione. "There's something I have to tell you."

Despite herself, Hermione couldn't help her ridiculous panic that stemmed from years of rejection at the hands of her parents. Did he want her to go? Was he taking the invitation back?

"There's this party," he said, oblivious to her inner panic. "It's a New Year's party at the University. We kind of go every year."

She just looked at him, waiting for him to elaborate.

"I mean, if you don't want to go, I can totally stay home. But, I mean, it could be fun, you know? Getting all dressed up, dancing to lame songs, even sipping champagne, as we know you're wont to doing."

She giggled. "You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"

"Never."

She reached for his hand and entwined their fingers, squeezing tightly. "I'd love to go," she said. "If you're asking."

"I'm asking."

"Then we're going."

He beamed at her, bringing their hands up and placing a kiss against the back of her hand. "I love you," he whispered against her skin.

She leaned into him and kissed him quickly. His mother _was_ in the other room. "There's only one problem," she said. "I don't have anything to wear."

He raised his eyebrows. "Here, or at all?"

"Here," she said. "I kind of just packed to flee; not to celebrate."

Harry swallowed audibly. He didn't like that sentence at all. "Do you want to go back to your house to find something?" he asked. "Or are we going shopping?"

She laughed. "We?"

"Well, you and my mum, actually," he said. "I'm not going anywhere near shopping for dresses with my mum. I think I'd cry solid tears."

"You really are a drama queen, aren't you?"

He nodded, smiling cheekily. "And I totally own it."

She kissed him again, letting her lips linger. "I'm pretty sure I have something in my cupboard," she told him. "Just, uh, will you come with me to look?" she asked, suddenly nervous.

He nodded without hesitation. "Of course." Then: "Are you going to model for me?"

"Wouldn't you be so lucky?"

"I would," he agreed.

This time, returning to Oxfordshire didn't require the Knight Bus. Hermione was able to Apparate them both from the backyard of the Surrey house, and the two of them spent an entire afternoon going through the many dresses Hermione's mother bought for the daughter she didn't even know. Harry lounged on her bed, fingers threaded behind his head as he just watched, halfway mesmerised and doing his level best to stay rooted to the spot.

She started off shy - disappearing into her cupboard to change - but, by the second hour, she was just removing dresses in front of him, and it was taking _all_ of his control not to launch himself at her and tell her to attend the party in just her underwear. Because, yes, _that_ would go down very well.

"I like that one," Harry suddenly said when she slipped on a particularly form-fitting red dress. "That's the one."

Hermione studied herself in the full-length mirror. "You think?"

"I do."

"Because you look amazing," he said. " _And_ I find that I can't wait to take it off you."

Hermione blushed a deep red, and she had to turn away from him to hide it. She wondered what Sirius would think of Harry's advances _now_. Really, neither of them should have ever been worried. Their relationship - both the emotional and physical side - was definitely progressing. With time; with age.

When she looked up, Harry was grinning at her. "But, well, for right now, you could take it off yourself," he said.

She shook her head. "You're incorrigible, Mr Potter."

He sat up, his smile barely faltering. "I'm just trying to love you, Granger," he said, sounding more serious than his facial expression suggested.

Hermione was still struggling with the act of letting him.

* * *

"Dance with me," Harry said, grinning mischievously.

Hermione was quick to shake her head, suddenly very aware of the many people in the ballroom at the university where Lily Evans was a prominent professor. Hermione hadn't really known what Harry's mother did for a living, but she wouldn't say she was surprised. Lily Evans seemed the sort of person to further her education until she was furthering others'. The position suited her in a way that made Hermione question what _she_ was going to end up doing with the rest of her life. What was _she_ built for, and how long would it take her to figure it out?

"No," she said firmly, as if the head-shake wasn't enough.

It clearly wasn't, because he bat his eyelashes at her. "Please?"

"I'm not good at - " she started, but he cut her off.

"Seriously," he said, trying not to roll his eyes. "It's not a contest, Granger. I just want to hold you."

Hermione blushed as if on command.

"What do you say?"

She bit at her bottom lip as she nodded, putting out her hand. "Lead the way, Mr Potter."

Harry took hold of her hand and led the way to the dance floor. He kept them near the edge because the centre looked overwhelming. And, plus, it was where his parents were. Really, he was sure that the world could explode around them and the two adults wouldn't even notice; they were so caught up in each other.

Harry twirled her once, and then pulled her close, his hands moving to rest at her waist. Without prompting, she slipped her arms around his neck, a smile framing her face. Really, Harry wouldn't have been able to look away from her even if he tried.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, and pulled her closer.

They danced the slow songs, and danced a few of the fast ones. The music was generally bad but neither of them minded. They nibbled on snacks, sipped at champagne, and tried their best to act like the teenagers they were desperately trying to be. It wasn't difficult. If Sirius and his mother could do it, then so could they.

When midnight rolled around, it was actually a surprise to Harry. He immediately stopped dancing as the countdown rumbled around them, his gaze honing in on the most perfect face he was sure he'd ever seen. He fully understood his opinions on the matter were objective, but he stood by his convictions. Hermione Granger was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen, and he was so desperately in love with her.

"Hi," he breathed.

Hermione's own movements stilled, and her eyes met his.

The world fell away.

Gently, Harry lifted his right hand and cupped her cheek, a small smile dancing across his lips. This was his life now, and he was determined to hold onto it as tightly as he could.

When the countdown ended and midnight officially struck, Harry leaned down to kiss her, wishing her a Happy New Year without having to use any words, just his lips, tongue and teeth. He sank into the kiss, deepening it and trying to convey his deepest feelings. Really, he would have kissed her for all her worth, but a tap on his shoulder made him pull away and turn to the culprit.

He came face-to-face with someone he didn't know; a boy who was smiling coyly. "Dude," the boy said, grinning knowingly. "Get a room."

Despite herself, Hermione laughed out loud before burying her flushed face in Harry's collar.

Harry looked at the boy for the longest time. Then: "Got it."

The boy walked away, and Harry leaned back so he could look at Hermione's face. "Hey, you," he said. "What are you giggling about?"

Her smile slowly faded as her eyes met his. "We could, you know?"

He frowned. "We could what?"

She swallowed thickly. "Get a room."

His eyes widened in surprise. "What?"

"Do you?"

"Do I what?"

She stood up straight, her right hand moving to run through his hair. "Do you want to get out of here, Harry Potter?" she asked, her voice low and steady. "We could go to my house. We could - "

He raised his eyebrows. "We could what?"

She blushed. "Please don't make me use the words, Harry," she said testily. Then: "We're not having sex, if that's what's worrying you."

He stared at her for the longest moment. "It's not that," he finally said. "I, just, are you sure?"

She stepped back and reached for his hand, her fingers entwining with his. "Let's go, Harry."

The boy really didn't need to be told twice. He let her lead him out of the Hall and out into the foyer. For a moment, she hesitated, trying to decide where in the vicinity it was best to go to, in order to Apparate to her house without anyone seeing them.

"Bathroom," Harry whispered.

Bathroom it was.

Hermione pulled him into the women's bathroom, shut the door, and pulled him close by wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "Hold on," she murmured, and Harry's own arms tightened around her. Again, he didn't have to be told twice.

A moment later, they were gone, only to appear in the darkness of a broken streetlight near Hermione's house.

Harry stumbled slightly; still not used to Apparation. Really, he didn't think he would _ever_ get used to it. Hermione was the one to steady him, before she grabbed hold of his hand and then started running towards the house.

Harry could only marvel at how _light_ she seemed, her laughter sounding happy and childish as she practically skipped towards the red front door. His girlfriend was _skipping_. It was a stark contrast to the girl he'd picked up from this same house just over a week ago.

They were already kissing when they made it through the door, blissfully unaware of what they were stumbling into. Hermione's fingers reached for the buttons of Harry's shirt, and he used his foot to slam the door shut, lips on her skin and hands exploring the curves of her body. His brain was seconds away from shutting down; his body taking over.

Right until the moment they were both made aware of the fact they weren't alone.


	22. Here Tomorrow Gone Today

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Here Tomorrow Gone Today**

The teenagers broke apart immediately, both of them breathless.

Hermione flushed immediately, both embarrassed and _shocked_. What on earth? "Mum?" she questioned, convinced that her eyes were deceiving her. This was not happening. She did not just get caught making out with her boyfriend - practically _groping_ him - by her parents. "Dad?"

"Hey, Sweetie."

Harry felt Hermione stiffen in his arms and he had the sudden urge to take her away from this place. He wanted so much to protect her from the heartbreak and pain that invariably came from interacting with the very people he was laying eyes on for the first time: her parents. They looked so... normal. Put together and well-adjusted. It was impossible to look at them and see neglect and indifference. One could never quite tell though, and that was probably the most terrifying part. To the outside world, they probably looked like a perfect family.

Hermione absently stepped closer to Harry, leaning in slightly as she regarded her parents with obvious wariness. She was seeking him out, for warmth and protection. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her upper lip twitching from sudden nervousness. What _were_ they doing here?

"Who's this?" Catherine Granger asked, referring to Harry and ignoring her daughter's question.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked again. She wasn't going to answer their questions until they answered hers. Somehow, having Harry with her was making it easier not to revert to that little girl who wanted nothing more than the approval and love of her parents.

"We told you we were coming home."

"Ten days ago," Hermione forced out, her frown deepening. "You said you were coming home _ten days ago_."

"Well, we're here now," Catherine said, as if that made everything better. "So, your friend can go now."

Hermione rolled her eyes, which was something she _never_ would have done in the presence of her parents before - just, _before_. "He's not my _friend_ , Mum. This is Harry Potter. He's my boyfriend."

Catherine frowned. "I wasn't aware you had a boyfriend," she said, bristling slightly. "Aren't you a little too young, Hermione?"

"I'm seventeen years old," she replied, somewhat hauntingly. How dare she? She didn't get to waltz in here and suddenly be a mother. "And it seems to me there are quite a few things of which you're not aware."

"Just _what_ is that supposed to mean, young lady?"

Hermione just shook her head, turning to look at Harry. "I can't do this right now," she whispered to him.

"Do you want to go?" he immediately asked, his voice equally low, rumbling from deep in his chest.

She gripped his hand tightly before she nodded once. Harry stepped back, ready to lead out of the house; to take her away from this place... away from these people. Hermione was ready to follow - she would follow him anywhere - when Catherine spoke up again.

"And just where do you think you're going?" she asked, straightening her spine.

"Somewhere," Hermione said. "Anywhere. Just, away from here."

"But we came home especially to see you," Catherine said, primed and ready with her guilt-trip as only mothers were capable of performing. "And you're just going to leave? Isn't that awfully inconsiderate of you?"

To say Hermione was shocked was an understatement, and she let out an incredulous laugh, her eyes boring into her mother. " _I'm_ inconsiderate?" she snapped.

Harry tensed, feeling her magic threaten to break free. He was forced to use his own to keep hers contained, which was quite the feat given her raging emotions. He stepped closer to her, ready to wrap her in his arms if required.

"You're the ones who arrive _ten days_ late, and _I'm_ the one who's inconsiderate?" she asked in disbelief, throwing her arms in the air. "Unbelievable!"

"Hermione - "

"No!" she snapped again, her features hardening. "This isn't a one-way thing," she said. "You don't get to dictate how this goes. _You're_ the ones who messed up. You _keep_ messing up. I mean, what did you even think when you got here and realised I wasn't here? Did you even care? Did you even try to look for me?"

Catherine looked stumped, absently glancing at her husband for support and receiving nothing in response.

"So, no, you don't get to call me inconsiderate," she continued, needing to get it out of her system. "I'm going home with Harry."

"But _this_ is your home," she pressed.

"Like hell it is," Hermione said darkly, surprising even herself. " _Harry_ is my home."

"Hermione, be serious. This boy is not your family," Catherine argued. "You should be with family; not your passing _boyfriend_." She practically spat the word out, and Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Passing boyfriend?" she asked, frowning in disbelief. "That's _rich_. If you expect that moniker to work for Harry, then does the term 'passing parents' work for you two as well?" She shook her head, refusing to get dragged into any more of this. It was just so exhausting. "I'm going home with Harry," she said again, and that was final.

"Hermione - "

"I'm going home with Harry," she repeated hotly, her tone steel and unassuming.

Catherine stepped back in surprise.

"And, really, he knows more about _family_ than you'll ever know," she finished, suddenly feeling exhausted. Hermione blindly reached for Harry's hand, her fingers squeezing his. "Take me home, Harry."

He did.

* * *

The house was quiet and empty when Harry and Hermione made it back to Surrey. Lily and Sirius were still out and about, enjoying their night together, and the two teenagers would have been enjoying their own night if it weren't for her parents making their unexpected and clearly untimely return. It was the worst possible moment, really.

Harry couldn't help his sigh.

"Come with me," Hermione said, leading the way through the dark house, up the stairs and into his bedroom. She didn't say anything more as she carefully removed her coat, and then helped him with his own. All she wanted was to climb into bed with him and forget that this entire night ever happened.

Everything was going so well, and she was even going to _tell him_ , but now everything was ruined. So, yes, she just wanted to lie with him, feel the safety of his arms, and just _be_. In his bed.

They would deal with the rule-breaking in the morning.

Harry Potter was more than happy to oblige. He would give her everything she ever wanted and needed, now and forever and always. It helped that offering her comfort wasn't completely a selfless act. Harry would grab at any excuse to hold her because they both knew she felt safe and secure in his arms, and the last thing she wanted to do was leave the protection and warmth of his embrace.

They settled into his bed, their arms wrapped around each other, and tried to forget the horrible end to what was supposed to be a lovely evening. All Hermione hoped was that none of this was a signpost to the way the rest of the year was going to go.

"I'm sorry for everything they said," she whispered, her face pressed against the skin of his neck.

"I'm sorry, too."

"I'm also sorry we didn't get to celebrate."

He chuckled lightly, his arms tightening around her. "Oh, Granger, we have our whole lives for that."

She sighed. "After what you just witnessed, why would you even still want me?"

"Because I love you."

"But why?" she pressed, suddenly needing to know. "Why do you love me?"

Harry took a moment to gather his thoughts enough to formulate words she would believe. "I love you because you make me laugh in seriously inappropriate situations, and because you're unafraid to tell me when I'm annoying the crap out of you. I love you because you love my mum, and I love you because you talk in your sleep."

"I do not," she countered, but he just smiled knowingly.

"I love you because you've got a world of knowledge in that head of yours, and yet you still choose me. I love you because you make the world brighter; because you have the kindest heart; because you're so peaceful, and because you miss your parents, even though you'll never ever admit it." He was wary of bringing up her parents, but it had to be said. It _was_ something he loved about her. "Truly, Granger, if you're looking for a list of all the reasons I love you, I can go on all night."

Hermione wasted all but a second before rolling onto him and kissing him silly. This was the moment she knew for sure this was the boy she loved. She loved him. She'd known for a while, but she didn't have the courage to tell him before. Was now the time? Would there ever truly be a 'right time,' and was it naive to think she would find it?

The moment his hands slid through the slits in her dress; all thoughts failed her.

She'd tell him later.

* * *

Harry waited until Hermione was asleep to slip back out of bed. He made sure she was still dead to the world before he gathered his shoes, shirt and coat, and then left his room. He got dressed in the corridor and took another moment to gather his thoughts before he left the house.

And, just a few minutes later, it was a very determined Harry Potter who knocked on the Granger House's front door.

Catherine Granger was the one to answer, and her eyes widened at the sight of the green-eyed boy with the messy, raven hair that her daughter's fingers had _claimed_ just a mere half hour ago. She recognised him from earlier, sure, but there was a different look in his eyes; something determined and protective. It was almost feral, and she could practically feel his emotions radiating off him.

"Um, can I help you?" she asked, as calmly as she could.

"I think you can," Harry said, pushing past her into the foyer of the house. "You're probably the only ones who can."

"Catherine, is everything all right?" Robert Granger asked, hurrying into the foyer at the sound of a commotion.

"Oh, good," Harry said. "You're both here." He moved to stand in front of both of them and folded his arms across his chest, taking in the sight of them.

Really, they did look so normal, and it just made him angrier. How could two perfectly pleasant looking people be so _bad?_ They were worse than James, really, because at least James made sure Harry knew he hated him. He just didn't understand Hermione's parents' motivations, and he didn't think he ever wanted to. There was already enough about this world to depress him.

"Do you know why I'm here?" Harry asked, pointedly and seriously. "Do you?"

They both just stood and stared at him, surprised by his sudden appearance and hostility.

"I'm here because, not too long ago, my girlfriend was crying in my arms _because of you two_." He practically growled in annoyance and obvious distaste. "You don't get to be part-time parents," he said, his voice strong and pointed. "You either are or you're not. She can't survive just having parts of you. Her heart is too good and kind for what you two do to it."

They just continued to stare at him, watching as he started to pace in front of them almost manically.

"You might be her parents, but you don't know her the way I do," Harry continued. "You have _no_ idea what a privilege it is to know your daughter. But to be loved by her; there is nothing like it on Earth. How can you possibly take it for granted that she loves you? How _dare_ you?"

They were rhetorical questions but Catherine attempted to respond.

Harry just glared at her, forcing her to remain silent. "She'll never admit it, but she misses you. I'll never know why, when I've never known a time when you haven't hurt or disappointed her."

And it was the truth. All three of them knew it. Harry even thought Hermione hadn't told her parents about him because she didn't want them to use their negligence to ruin how happy she claimed he made her. They would tarnish their relationship somehow, and Harry wouldn't let them. Hermione deserved all the happiness in the world, and he wasn't going to sit idly by and let them rob her of it.

"She is _everything_ to me," Harry said, surprised by the sound of his own words. "And, I know what you're probably thinking: we're young and we don't know what we're talking about, and maybe you're right, but she is everything I never even knew I wanted or needed. She is great and selfless and so forgiving, and I hate that you do this to her; that you think you have the right to belittle her and make her feel like a burden. Shame on you.

"Despite you, she is so strong and independent, but the two of you diminish all she works so hard for. You turn her into a shell of herself, and you do it so easily, and you have no idea how powerful you are. Do you even care about that? Do you even really care? Because, if you don't, just go, leave, and allow her to be with people who will love her unconditionally.

"But if you _do_ care, and I really hope you do, then you have to do it right. Every broken promise breaks her that little bit more and I won't stand idly by as you destroy her sense of trust and her sense of worth, because that wonderfully frustrating girl deserves the world and I intend to give it to her." He huffed out a breath. "So, decide now, because she's _great_. She's wonderful, and I feel sorry for you that you won't do everything possible to know her. Why wouldn't you want to know her? Why wouldn't you bend over backwards to spend every second you can with her?

"She won't be around for you to know for much longer. She's already an adult in the Wizarding World, and it's not long to go before she's an adult in _your_ world. Then you'll lose her for good, and _you're_ the ones who are going to have to live with that regret; the regret of having someone amazing _pass_ you by. So, that's on you, because _I'll_ have her, and _I'll_ be with her every day and, one day, you'll just be a memory to her. Is that what you want? Is it? Because it'll happen, and I will let it."

Harry stared at them, almost daring them to respond to anything he said.

And, when they didn't, he let out a long, defeated sigh.

"You know what the saddest part of this whole thing is," he continued; "she really does love you. She misses you _every day_ , and you don't even see it. Wake up, open your damn eyes and _see her_. She is the greatest thing that will ever happen to you. Believe me, I know the truth of it." And that was all he would say.

Harry left the house in a rush because he was in a hurry to get back to Hermione - hopefully, before she noticed he left.

The house was still silent when he returned, dark and eerie in a way that made his heart hurt. He moved through the rooms as quietly as he could and made his way up to his bedroom, where he found his girlfriend still tucked away in his bed, looking smaller than he could remember. He was hit by the irrepressible urge to make everything _better_. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to do that but he was going to try, because he loved her.

Merlin, he absolutely adored her.

Harry stripped off his coat, kicked off his shoes and removed his jeans before he climbed into bed with her, moving to lie behind her and soaking up her warmth. His arms snaked around her waist and he brought her back against his chest, burying his face in her hair and breathing in.

"Where did you go?" she asked, surprising him.

It took a moment for the sudden tension in his body to dissipate. "Out."

"Where?"

"Granger."

She sighed heavily before she shifted and turned around to face him properly. She tucked her head under his chin and placed a gentle kiss against his collarbone. "Why does everything have to be so hard?"

"I don't know," he whispered. "But if it weren't, would it be worth it?"

"Why do you always know what to say?"

"I'm a certified genius, you know," he said softly. "I know _things_."

She slipped her hands under his shirt and ran her fingers along the skin of his back. This boy was soft and warm and _solid_. She could hold onto him. "Harry Potter. Certified Genius. Very sexy."

Harry couldn't help his shiver. Her breath, her hands and her words were doing things to him, and his mind was threatening to run away with _thought_ _s_. Really, he wondered if she had any idea how perfect she was. Probably not. He vowed, in that moment, to spend every day of the rest of his life making sure she knew. It was a bold thought, but he couldn't imagine himself loving anyone half as much as he loved her. It just wasn't a fathomable notion.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

His arms tightened around her. "For what?"

"For everything," she said. "For staying. For loving me."

His eyes fluttered open, and he was surprised to see her looking at him, her own eyes revealing _so much_. "I'm sorry they do this to you," he told her. "I want to make it better."

"You do make it better," she made sure he knew. "Every day. You make it better."

He placed a kiss against her forehead.

"I - " she stopped, her heart stuttering. She swallowed. Why couldn't she just tell him she loved him? It wasn't that hard, was it? It definitely wasn't supposed to be.

"You what?"

Hermione blinked. "I, uh... just, thank you."

He frowned slightly. "You're welcome, Granger," he said softly. "You know I would do anything for you."

"I know," she said, shifting until she was poised to roll onto him. If she couldn't _tell_ him she loved him, then she could at least show him. "I'm just trying to tell you how grateful I am."

"I hear you."

"Can I _show_ you?"

Harry was more than happy to let her.

* * *

Harry woke with a start, the dream all too real for his liking. Or was it a nightmare? He was sweating, so it had to be something awful, though he couldn't remember much more than shelves and shelves of strange luminescent spheres suspended in darkness.

He didn't even know where to begin to unpack _that_. Maybe Hermione would know. His girlfriend tended to harbour all sorts of useless information in that gigantic brain of hers. Like, who else in the world knew there were roughly 660 skeletal muscles in the average body, just randomly? Truly, she was something remarkable, and he absolutely adored her obsession with learning new things.

A quick glance at his watch told Harry he was probably supposed to be awake right now. The nightmare wasn't exactly frightening, but he hated that they still happened. They'd been few and far between since Hallowe'en, almost lulling him into a false sense of security, but now they were picking up pace. They were almost forcing him into the decision that it was time for him to tell his mother and Sirius.

And Hermione.

Speaking of, where was his beautiful girlfriend?

Harry rolled out of bed and headed straight to the bathroom to brush his teeth and take a shower. After all that happened the night before, he needed to be fresh and alert to deal with the aftermath. Really, _so much_ happened; his head was even spinning from just thinking about it. There were snippets too good to be true, and then there was the issue of Hermione's parents. He didn't know if his speech would change anything but he still hoped, for Hermione's sake, that they _did_ something to keep hold of their daughter. He didn't think they were completely heartless, and he imagined they _had_ to have the intention of salvaging the relationship.

When Harry finally went downstairs, he found Hermione in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a plate of freshly cut fruit in front of her. She looked so calm, so peaceful, as she read a novel, and he could have spent hours just looking at her.

It took her almost a full minute to notice him standing in the doorway and she smiled at the sight of him. "Hi," she said, raising her eyebrows in his direction. "Where's your shirt?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that question?" he asked, somewhat suggestively.

She giggled softly, absently rolling her eyes. "Are you hungry?"

He shrugged. "Are my mum and Sirius here?"

She shook her head no. "They've been out all night."

"Do they even know what teenagers can get up to when left alone?"

"They trust me," she said simply.

"But not me?"

She laughed.

"Everyone thinks you're a good girl, but you're really not, Hermione Granger."

"Why do you say that?" she asked, all innocence.

Harry looked deliberately at her hands, and then he looked down at the front of his jeans. "Do I even have to say it out loud?"

She shook her head, a blush taking over her face. "Come have some breakfast, Harry," she said. "There's fruit and pancakes on the counter there."

Harry couldn't help his smirk as he made his way into the kitchen and made a plate for himself and poured himself a glass of orange juice, before he went to sit down next to her, ducking his head to spy the name of the novel: _5 Languages of Love_. Hmm.

"Have you ever heard of a towel?" she asked, eyeing his still-damp hair. "Seriously, Potter?"

He didn't bother to answer her, rather just looking at her, his heart loving what he was seeing.

"Stop looking at me like that," she said, rolling her eyes at his staring.

"Like what?"

"Like _that_?"

He grinned at her. "Like what, Granger?"

"Like you've seen me naked."

He let out a light laugh. "Oh, Granger, but I _have_ ," he said smugly.

She shook her head. "Is this how it's going to be now?"

"What do you mean?"

"That look on your face, Harry," she said, leaning into him. "I mean, I strip for you _once_ and you're acting like _this_ ," she said. "What are you going to be like when we finally do have sex?"

His eyes widened slightly, and his body tensed. "Uh..."

She kissed his cheek quickly, and then rose from the table, leaving him to deal with _that_ lingering thought.

All Harry could do was watch her as she moved around the kitchen, clearing dishes while she popped grapes into her mouth every few moments. He loved having her in his house, using his things like she belonged. If he had his way, she would never leave. If he could have his future _right now_ , he probably wouldn't change a thing. She was his future. It was as plain and simple as that.

"So," she said; "when you put a shirt on, maybe we can discuss last night?"

He blinked innocently. "What about last night?" he asked, his voice coming out in a husk.

She blushed instantly. "Not _that_ ," she clarified, clearing her throat. "I know you went to see my parents, Harry."

He dropped his gaze, not at all surprised. He knew she would figure it out eventually. It wasn't even that he _wanted_ to hide it from her; he just wasn't sure he could tell her all he ended up saying to them. His mouth just said words, some without his brain's consent, and he was somewhat wary of Hermione's reaction to them. Merlin, if he ever wanted her parents to like him; he blew all chances of that last night.

Hermione sighed, her body deflating. "As great as it is to be here with you and your family, Harry, eventually, I'm going to have to go home and talk to them, you know?"

"I _do_ know," he said with his own sigh, stabbing a piece of pineapple with his fork more violently than was completely necessary. "Which was why I _had_ to talk to them, Granger. I _had_ to, because who else is going to? They have to know they can't treat you the way they do. They _can't_. They have to know they have to be _better_. You deserve so much more, and they have to know. Girls like you; they deserve the world."

She swallowed audibly. "Is that what you told them?"

"Mostly."

She eyed him, making him squirm in his seat. "Just tell me, Harry."

As much as he really didn't want to, he still did. Harry could deny her nothing - he was practically powerless against her.

Hermione listened in silence, finding herself falling more and more in love with him with every word he said, despite how horrifying some of the things sounded. Truly, this boy was special, a certain fire burning in his eyes. If ever she doubted his desire to protect her, all she had to do was look in his emerald eyes and _know_.

"Look, I get it if you're mad... it was probably a little _much_ , but I stand by it. They needed to know," he said innocently, reading her facial expression wrong. Was she angry? Disappointed? Fascinated? "And, I mean, I didn't know who else was going to tell them, you know? If not me, who? I told you I was the guy for you. I love you."

Hermione opened her mouth, wanting to tell him so much, but the sound of the front door opening stopped her. Maybe it was a sign. The way things were going, she was never going to be able to tell him that -

Merlin, she _loved_ him.

Like, in a hopeless, I-want-to-have-your-babies kind of way.

Sirius and Lily came tumbling in, practically glued together at the hip, both of them laughing over something that probably wasn't even the least bit funny. They looked like they spent the entire night partying, and Harry could only raise his eyebrows at the sight of them. Honestly, they looked like they were still drunk.

Silently, Harry rose to his feet. "And just where have the two of you been?" he asked, trying to keep his voice stern. It would have helped if he were wearing a shirt, and he silently cursed himself for wanting to tease his girlfriend. "We've been worried sick about you. This was mightily irresponsible of you both, and I am _very_ disappointed in you. Especially you, Lily. I expected more from you. I mean, how can you just spend the entire night out and not tell us?"

Sirius hiccupped, and Lily giggled.

Harry's eyes widened. They were definitely still drunk. Well well well. "Both of you," Harry said. "Upstairs, now. Get cleaned up. We'll talk about this when you're sober."

The pair were quick to scramble up the stairs, leaving the two teenagers to exchange a look. A beat later, they both burst out laughing, doubling over. _Welcome to the New Year, people._

"Gosh, did you see their faces?" Hermione asked, practically wheezing.

"I don't even think they recognised us," he returned, shaking his head as he returned to his seat to finish up with his breakfast.

Hermione stayed standing, resuming her clearing up. It was a nervous action because the kitchen top was spotless. She just needed to be sufficiently far away from Harry, in order to say what she was convinced she had to.

She cleared her throat, getting his attention. "I need to go and see my parents," she said carefully, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the kitchen island. She kept her eyes on him, trying to convey just how important this was to her. "Just to talk."

"Talk about what?" Harry asked around a piece of pineapple in his mouth. He couldn't even bring himself to enjoy the sweet tang.

She looked away from him for a moment. "I don't yet know," she confessed. "I just know we need to talk, Harry. And, soon."

"Why?"

"Because," she said quietly. "They might be ten days late, but they still showed up. That means something."

Harry sighed, which was enough to stop him from muttering some obscene things. To him, it meant _nothing_ , because he was quite certain they showed up for themselves, and not for _her_. He didn't have to say it, though, because he was sure Hermione already knew. Still, if she felt this was something she had to do, then he would support her. "Fine," he huffed. "Let me just put on a shirt."

Hermione raised her eyebrows in question.

"Oh, I'm definitely coming with you."

She couldn't help her smile. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

* * *

Harry and Hermione waited until after lunch to head over to Oxfordshire. It was a light meal, during which the teenagers teased Lily and Sirius mercilessly for their New Year's Night Extravaganza. The adults were both now terribly hungover, and Harry had zero sympathy for them. Hermione _did_ , however, and she even offered to brew the perfect hangover cure for them.

"She's a keeper," Sirius mumbled to Harry as Hermione administered the potion to him.

"No," Hermione quipped; "I just want to make sure I rack up some points for when we become in-laws."

Both Harry and Sirius just stared at her, mouths agape and eyes wide. "Wait. What?" Harry asked, sidling up to her and slipping an arm around her waist. "I'm sorry; I didn't quite catch that."

Hermione did all she could to hold onto what little bravado she had but her blush, ultimately, won out. If Harry was confused by her ability to make jokes about a possible future marriage between them while still being unable to tell him she loves him; he didn't show it. This was still something, and he definitely wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Granger," he murmured, pressing his lips to her temple. "Are you trying to tell me you intend to marry me, some day?"

She nodded her head without looking at him. "Are you feeling any better, Sirius?" she asked, stepping out of Harry's embrace. "Should I brew a stronger one?"

"No, I think this is fine," he said, grinning as he turned to look at Harry. "Don't you want to run this up to your mum?" he asked, waving a hand. "She's probably complaining bloody murder up there."

Harry laughed. "Definitely," he agreed, lifting a vial and sprinting out of the room.

Sirius listened for his footsteps up the stairs before he turned his attention to Hermione. His head was still throbbing, but there was something he needed to say, and it seemed as if Hermione was just waiting to hear it. "Come, sit with me," he said, patting the space beside him on the couch.

Cautiously, she obliged. "What is it, Sirius?" she asked, wringing her fingers together in her lap.

"I want to say thank you," he began. "I know you don't think you did anything to help Lily and me get together, but you offered me a new perspective on how and why we weren't taking the next step."

Despite herself, Hermione flushed instantly. "Sirius..."

He just continued speaking, ignoring her interruption. "And, I feel as if all we've been doing since then is taking more and more steps. Harry jokes about weddings and stepfathers all the time, but I've always wondered if he's actually being serious."

"He is," she said strongly. "He already considers you his family. It would just be a formality."

"I intend to ask him for his blessing first."

"I think that's the right thing to do," she said, smiling at him. "He might give you the run around because, well, he's Harry, but we both know what he'll say. You seem to make his mother very happy."

"And _you_ seem to make _him_ very happy," he returned, smiling lopsidedly. "He loves you very much, Hermione."

Her smile slipped slightly. "I know," she said; "I sometimes struggle with believing I deserve it."

"You do deserve it," he assured her. "He's a good boy, growing into a great man, and you're both lucky to have found each other at your age. Do what you can to hold onto each other, okay? You don't want to be my age, just finding happiness, okay?"

She nodded. "Okay."

Smiling, he slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug. "Harry mentioned something about your parents," he started, carefully and quietly. "You met them last night?"

Hermione bit her bottom lip for a moment. "We did, yes," she finally said. "They didn't take too kindly to finding their daughter wrapped around a green-eyed wizard."

Sirius chuckled. "I can't imagine they would."

She sighed. "I was so mad at them."

"But, not anymore?"

"I don't know," she answered. "I want to hear what they have to say. I can't help thinking this is our last chance, you know? I just want to know for sure. Do they actually want a relationship with me or not? I need to know, so I can just accept the reality and move on with people who actually want me around."

"Like us," Sirius said brightly, and then grimaced at the pounding in his head.

Hermione giggled softly. "Careful."

Before Sirius could respond, they were interrupted by Harry's voice. "Oi, Sirius," he called out as he skipped the last few stairs. "Hands off my future wife."

Sirius cackled, but did remove his arm. "As if the wonderful Miss Granger here would stoop so low as to marry either of us."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, somebody _has_ to."

Harry just laughed as he moved to stand in front of her. "My mum says thank you, and you're a God-send."

Again, Hermione blushed under the praise.

"Are you ready to go?"

Silently, Hermione nodded and rose to her feet. She squeezed his hand and then went up the stairs to gather her coat and put on her shoes.

Harry glanced at Sirius. "Is she okay?" he asked.

"I don't know," he said quietly. "Just, stick with her, okay?"

"Of course," he said, smiling knowingly. "Check on my mum."

"Of course."

After a quick punch to Sirius' shoulder, Harry left the room to meet Hermione at the bottom of the stairs. "How are you feeling, pretty girl?"

"Nervous," she admitted. "But I just want to get it over with."

Harry wasn't sure if that was the right attitude for what they were about to do, but he wasn't going to say anything. He just took hold of her hand and led her into the backyard of the house. He held on tightly as she Apparated them both into a space between her house and the neighbour's. Harry took a moment to steady himself, fighting off a wave of nausea. Gosh, he hated Apparation.

Hermione stood perfectly still as she steadied her breathing. "Harry," she said.

"Hmm?"

"Would you mind waiting outside?"

He blinked in surprise. "Umm, sure," he said. "I'll do whatever you want, Granger. Whatever you need."

"Just, I think I need to do this alone," she tried to explain.

"I get it," he said. "I'll wait right outside the door, okay? I'll be right there if you need me and, if I hear anything I don't like, I'm going to come storming in, wand blazing. I won't even care."

She giggled, reaching for his hand and giving it a squeeze. She didn't release her hold on him as she led him to the front door, feeling so many things different to when they were in this position just last night. Was it only last night? Wow. It felt as if _so much_ happened in just a few hours.

They came to a stop at the door, and she forced herself not to panic. She was just going to talk to her parents. Nothing bad was about to happen, despite the anxious feeling churning in her stomach. Hermione wasn't about to knock on her own door, so she placed her hand on the handle.

"I love you," Harry said, kissing her cheek. "I'm right here."

"I know," she whispered, and then entered the house, unsure what she was expecting to find. She closed the door behind her, louder than necessary, and _waited_. It didn't take her parents long to come into the entrance hall at the sound of the door, and Catherine froze at the sight of her daughter.

"Hermione?" she sputtered. "You're here?"

"I'm here," Hermione said, shrugging.

Catherine looked past her, searching for Harry, but refusing to ask after him.

Hermione read her expression for what it was. "He's outside," she said. "I wanted to talk to you alone. Apparently, he already had his chance to say whatever he needed to say."

If Catherine was surprised Hermione knew he stopped by the house last night, she didn't show it. "Indeed, he did."

Hermione couldn't stop herself from smiling fondly at the mere thought of Harry Potter's protectiveness. It was a forever thing with that one, wasn't it? Clearing her throat, she spoke. "I didn't know if I was coming back. I wanted to, but then I also didn't."

Catherine nodded, just waiting. She could feel Robert's presence at her right side, but she drew no comfort from it. It had been a long time since she'd drawn any comfort from _him_. For the first time, she actually envied her daughter and her relationship with one Harry Potter.

"Where were you?" Hermione asked. "Why weren't you here when you said you were going to?"

Catherine risked taking a step forward. "We were in Prague," she answered truthfully.

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek. "Did you forget about me?"

"Yes."

"Did you come home for me?"

"No."

Hermione breathed out through her nose. "Why should I come home for you, then?"

The truth was Catherine wasn't sure what to say to convince her. Harry gave them a lot to think about, and the last thing Catherine wanted was to lose her daughter. At least she and Robert were on the same page about that. "We want to try," Catherine said. "Will you let us?"

Hermione blinked in surprise. "What?"

"Come spend the rest of your Break with us, Hermione," she said. "It'll be just the three of us, like it was. We can be a family again."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. A family? _Again_? Was this woman delusional? "I can't remember the last time we ever _were_ a family," she said pointedly.

Catherine dropped her gaze. "I know we haven't been the best parents - "

"No, you haven't," Hermione agreed, interrupting. "I've always wondered what it was I did to make you hate me so much."

"Oh, honey," Catherine said, stepping forward. "We don't hate you. No, Hermione, please, never think that."

"Then, what am I supposed to think?" she asked, her voice pained. "Honestly, it's easier to think you hate me," she admitted. "I mean, indifference and neglect often do much more damage than outright dislike, right? And, I just couldn't accept that you just _didn't care_ about me; that you didn't even _see_ me."

Catherine stepped forward again, looking unsure. After hearing Harry's words last night and _seeing_ the obvious pain in her daughter's face; she just didn't know what to think anymore. "We want to make it up to you," she finally said.

"And, just how do you expect to do that?" Hermione pressed.

She needed assurances; she needed truths. These were just words, and they meant _nothing_. She'd heard words time and time again - Harry _told_ her he loved her every chance he could - but it was the actions that spoke volumes to her. Based on those alone, she had no choice but to accept Harry's love. It was - it was everywhere.

Robert cleared his throat, drawing his daughter's attention. "Stay with us," he said. "Come home. We'll talk, and we'll get to know one another again."

There he went with the word 'again.' Didn't they know there was no 'again?' They had _never_ known her.

"Will you come home?" Catherine asked, her expression hopeful.

Hermione's upper lip twitched, but her parents had no clue what that could mean, merely proving that they knew _nothing_ about her. Her anger was rising for some reason, and she suspected it was to do with the word 'home.' This place was not her home. It was just a house with a red door that she occasionally stayed in. "I'll think about it," she eventually said.

Catherine's eyes narrowed slightly, clearly not expecting Hermione's... hesitation. "What is there to think about?" she asked, her voice tense.

Hermione merely shrugged, her eyes darting towards the front door.

"Is this about Harry?" Catherine found herself asking, which was definitely the wrong thing to say.

"No!" she immediately said, suddenly snapping. This was not about Harry; not at all. "This is about _you_ and _me_! I am not about to spend the rest of my holiday being ignored in this stupid house when I can spend it in a _home_ with people who love me."

"We do love you, Hermione."

"Those are just words!" she countered. "What about how you show it? You've had _every_ opportunity to make this better, so where have you been? What have you been doing all this time?"

Before anyone else could say something, the front door opened, and Harry popped his head through. "Is everything okay?" he asked, his eyes on Hermione alone.

She sighed. "I think so, yes."

"Okay, let me know if you need anything," he said, and then he closed the door again.

Hermione couldn't help her smile. That boy was really something.

She turned to look at her parents. "I make so many allowances for you," she said. "I make sacrifices, but I still get nothing in return. I get it, you're busy. I get it, you wish I wasn't born, so why don't you just come out and say it so I can get on with my life? I hate that you make me _hope_ , so just tell me. Tell me what I did that was so wrong that you've never wanted me."

Catherine's mouth opened to say something, but nothing came out. She looked utterly surprised by Hermione's words, and it only angered Hermione further.

"What?" she snapped. "What did you expect me to think? My whole life, you've treated me like you didn't want me. Every day, I'm convinced _I'm_ the one thing about your lives you hate. I mean, is it because I'm a witch? Did I do something so horrific that you can't stand to be around me? Tell me, dammit!"

"Hermione."

Her head swivelled to face her father. "What, Dad? What?"

"We love you."

She laughed hauntingly, and both her parents stepped back. "You _don't_ love me," she said. "You can't. _This_ is not what love looks like, because I do know what it looks like. I see it every single day with that boy out there. I see it in the way his gaze softens when he looks at me. I feel it in the way he holds me, gentle enough not to hurt but tight enough to make me feel safe. I see it in the way he's always touching me in some way, as if he needs to know I'm there. He's _sure_ , and he's _true_. So, no, you don't get to tell me you love me. I know what love is, and this sure as hell isn't it!"

Robert just stared at her with wide eyes.

"Hermione?" Catherine began.

"I said I'd think about it!" Hermione barked out. "Wait it out, why don't you? See how you like it." With that, she turned on her heel, flung open the front door and stepped out. She was reeling, and she felt a little embarrassed. She didn't mean to fly off like that but it couldn't have been helped.

Before she knew it, she was wrapped up in the safety of Harry's arms.

"You're okay," he whispered to her. "You'll be okay."

She didn't believe him.

"Let's go home."

* * *

Harry wasn't sure how to bring up Hermione's conversation with her parents, and he wasn't sure if he should. She didn't seem to want to talk about it all; rather choosing to burrow into his side and keep silent. She didn't even comment on the fact that Harry didn't hang his coat on the coat rack when they got back to the house, which was enough to tell him she definitely wasn't okay.

Dinner was quiet. Even the preparation of it didn't manage to elicit any excitement from Hermione, and Harry tried not to hover. He managed to hear _some_ of the conversation through the door, but definitely not enough to bring it up to Hermione with any amount of confidence. He wouldn't even know what to say.

Both Lily and Sirius picked up on the sombre mood, and made the mutual decision not to address the elephant in the room until either teenager came to them. If Harry was being cautious of Hermione, then there had to be a significant and important reason for that. If Hermione wanted this respite, then the three of them were going to give it to her. From experience, Harry knew he was going to have to get her to talk about it eventually, but they were both just so exhausted. Tomorrow.

They would talk about it tomorrow.

"Come with me."

Harry nearly dropped the plate he was drying when Hermione slipped her arms around his waist and _tugged_. He stumbled backwards, just managing to keep his feet, and then followed her into the backyard. They moved to stand in the middle of the lawn, arms wrapping around each other with the dark sky hanging all around them. The only sound was that of their breathing and, without prompting, Harry started to sway them to imaginary music.

"I'm telling you, Granger, you are my favourite person," he whispered in her ear, his breath warm and reassuring against her skin.

"I hear you, Harry Potter," she whispered back, resisting the urge to kiss him. "You're my favourite person, too."

He nuzzled her cheek with his nose. "You know what this all means, right?"

"What?"

"You can stop hiding, Granger." He tightened his arms around her. "You can just be you now."

"Harry?"

"You can let them know you, you know?"

She sighed, relaxing into his embrace. "I don't know if I want to."

"That's okay," he assured her. "You don't have to decide now, all right? We can spend the evening together, and then you can decide in the morning, okay?"

She bit her bottom lip, a sign of her nervousness. "Will your mum let me stay another night?"

"Of course," he answered easily. "Though, she might put her foot down about you sleeping in the guest room," he said, smiling at her. "Can't trust you and your wandering hands."

"You weren't complaining last night."

He placed a kiss against her mouth. "I love you, Hermione."

Her heart started to race, just at the sound of her name out of his mouth. She would never get used to it. Gosh, if he only knew what it did to her whenever he said it; it would make him even more of a smug bastard. "Harry?"

"Hmm?"

She opened her mouth to tell him she loved him too, but the words didn't come. They _couldn't_ because, right before her eyes, Harry Potter disappeared. One moment, he was standing there, whispering sweet nothings right into her ear; and the next, he just wasn't.

Harry Potter was gone.


	23. Pull My Heart Away

**Chapter Twenty-Three:** **Pull My Heart Away**

Hermione's sudden scream alerted Lily and Sirius, who came rushing out of the house in a panic. They both had their wands at the ready but they needn't have bothered. Harry Potter was gone and nobody knew where.

"What happened?" Sirius asked, moving to stand right in front of the teenage witch. "Hermione! Where's Harry? Hermione!"

Hermione turned her wide eyes on Sirius. "He - he was just here," she whispered in disbelief. "I - uh, he just disappeared."

Sirius and Lily exchanged a look.

"Call Amelia," Sirius said.

Lily wasted no time in running back into the house, leaving Sirius and Hermione alone in the backyard. The teenage witch was still in a state of shock, and Sirius wasn't sure how to deal with it. It was obvious this was the first time she had to deal with anything like this.

"Uh, Hermione," he began; "do you - did - " he stopped, gathering his thoughts. "Did he say anything before he, umm, disappeared?"

Hermione swallowed thickly. "He told me he loved me," she said, blinking quickly. "And I - I couldn't even say it back to him."

Sirius didn't know how to respond to that, so he didn't.

The two of them remained in silence until Lily came back out of the house, looking antsy, her face a picture of worry and concern.

"What did she say?" Sirius immediately asked.

"They haven't heard anything yet," she said worriedly. "But she's checking with her Aurors. This could just be nothing, you know?"

Sirius nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe I should check with Albus," he said carefully, wary of bringing up the man's name around Lily; "See where Jack is."

"Maybe."

It was Sirius' turn to head into the house, and Lily turned her attention to Hermione. The teenager looked pale, her face still frozen in shock.

"Hermione?"

"I didn't tell him," she said breathily. "He doesn't know I love him."

Lily gave her a sympathetic look. She wasn't sure what to say to the teenager to make her feel better. Lily _knew_ that something like this would happen, which was why she accepted Sirius' offer to prepare her son for these such occasions. But, by Merlin, she was _terrified_. For her son, and for herself. She would never survive if anything ever happened to him.

And, frankly, from the look on Hermione's face; Lily didn't think the younger witch would either. Harry was too important to the both of them.

"He doesn't know," Hermione repeated.

Lily pulled her into a hug, which she needed more than she thought Hermione did. "He's going to be fine," she said soothingly, running her hand over the back of her head. "He's going to be fine."

Hermione didn't believe her, but she still allowed Lily to lead her back into the house and into the living room. Lily sat Hermione in an armchair and tried to busy herself with _things_ to distract herself from the fact that her son was missing. He was literally _gone_ , who knows where, and facing off against who knows what. She cleaned and she baked and the seconds turned into minutes that turned into an hour, and Lily lost herself in the mundane tasks.

Right until the moment Sirius came running into the room, looking haggard. "He's been spotted at the Ministry," he yelled. "I have to go." And then he was running out of the room, out of the house, and he too was gone.

Lily could only stare.

Hermione didn't even moved.

Seconds. Minutes.

Hours. Seconds.

Minutes. Hours.

* * *

What felt like an eternity later, both wizards were back, Sirius practically dragging Harry over the threshold.

"Harry!" Hermione suddenly exclaimed, spotting them first.

Lily's head snapped up. "What? Where?"

Hermione shot out of her seat, her heart skipping several beats as she broke out into a run to get to her boyfriend. Sirius was actually taken aback by how fast she was. Harry never told him she was so quick. "What happened?" she asked hurriedly, taking in the sight of Harry's worrying exterior.

"Help me get him upstairs," Sirius said painfully, looking as if he too had been hurt during whatever the two of them were just coming from. "He needs to rest."

Somehow, Hermione found the will to move and she was able to help Sirius get a practically unconscious Harry Potter up the stairs and into his bedroom. Sirius set the teenager down on the bed and attempted to shift him into as comfortable a position he could manage.

"What happened to him?" Hermione asked, moving to sit on the edge of the bed and touching Harry's chest. She just needed to be touching him, feeling him in some way, in order to make sure he was really there. She couldn't even explain the relief she felt when she felt his steady heartbeat under her fingertips.

Sirius shook his head. "Not now, Hermione," he said, wiping his forehead of sweat. "We should - I should - "

"Lily," Hermione said, understanding.

Sirius nodded once and exited the room, leaving Hermione alone with the one boy, she knew, who had the power to _ruin her_. It was inevitable, wasn't it? Was _that_ why she couldn't tell him she loved him? Because of what it would do to her. It would be handing him a loaded gun and trusting him not to pull the trigger. She didn't think she was brave enough for that.

Some Gryffindor she was.

A few minutes later, Lily entered the room, carrying with her a small bowl of warm water and a green washcloth. She sat on the opposite side of the bed and just stared at him as if she were just seeing him for the first time. Her lack of movement prompted Hermione's, and she reached across Harry for the washcloth from the bowl in Lily's lap. She wrung it out as gently as she could, and then proceeded to wipe the dirt, grime and _blood_ off Harry's perfect face.

Some of the blood didn't even belong to Harry.

Just what atrocities had this poor boy been through?

Hermione wiped at his jaw, down his neck and inside his collar before rinsing the cloth. She wiped his forehead next, wiping dirt from his brow and pale cheeks. Next, she cleaned his hands, wiping away blood as if it wasn't the liquid of life. Right now, it was just a red stain that she was determined to clean off his fingers.

While Hermione worked, Lily just sat in silence. For the most part, she was relieved Harry wasn't awake right now. As worried as she was, she was terrified of what was going to happen when he did finally come to. She suspected there would be a part of him that would hate her, if things really went the way Sirius believed they had at the Ministry.

If he discovered the Hall of Prophecies like Sirius suggested.

If he learned the truth she's been trying to keep from him since she learned it herself.

"How is Sirius?" Hermione asked quietly, her movements remaining steady as she wiped Harry's forearms. He had scratches and deep gashes but she wasn't skilled enough to heal them. Lily would have to do it.

"Bruised," Lily said carefully, taking out her wand.

As Hermione cleaned, Lily healed and, soon, Harry Potter just looked like an everyday teenager who was fast asleep wearing dirty clothes, and decidedly _not_ looking like a boy recovering from battle. He looked surprisingly peaceful, and it was a look Lily wished she could freeze forever. Everything was going to change when he opened those eyes and she wasn't ready for it.

None of them were.

"Did Sirius tell you what happened?" Hermione asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Lily took her time turning her gaze on Hermione. The young witch was looking at her expectantly but Lily didn't have it in her to answer the question. "It's strange, you know?" she said instead, blatantly deflecting. "I'm his mum, and yet I'm not the one taking care of him right now."

Hermione couldn't help her blush. "I'm sorry," she said, almost automatically.

"No, I like it," Lily was quick to add. "I mean, if I'm not going to be the one to take care of him; I'm glad you are."

Hermione's gaze dropped, her mind threatening to run away with her once more. It was a lot of... responsibility, and it was threatening to overwhelm her. "Thank you for trusting me enough to allow me to," she whispered. "I - he's - " She sighed at her inability to articulate. "He's very important to me."

"I know," Lily said, reaching out to place a hand over Hermione's one that was resting on Harry's chest.

A minute later, Sirius interrupted their vigil. He was freshly showered, clean and aware. He definitely didn't look as if he'd just done battle with a selection of Death Eaters that included his twisted cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange.

"How's he doing?" Sirius asked the pair of witches.

"No change," Lily answered him, standing. "Perhaps we should let him rest and you can tell us what happened over a cup of tea."

Sirius just nodded as he left the room, Lily following. It took Hermione another minute to work up the courage to leave Harry. First, she kissed his forehead, welcoming the warmth of him under her lips, and then she made her way downstairs. Sirius and Lily must not have heard her coming because she walked into what looked to be a heated discussion.

"What was I supposed to do, Lily?" Sirius asked, his tone clipped. "I couldn't let anyone see him. He was injured. There was - " he stopped suddenly when he spotted Hermione. He forced a smile. "Tea?"

Hermione frowned slightly, but she managed a nod as she walked into the kitchen and sat at the table.

Lily busied herself preparing a cup for the younger witch before she too sat. Her conversation with Sirius was going to have to wait and, if she had it her way, it would wait _forever_.

Sirius cleared his throat. "I only know what happened from when I arrived at the Ministry," he said, sipping at his tea. "There was a full-on battle raging between members of the Order, Aurors and Death Eaters."

"Where was Harry?" Lily asked.

"I just arrived at the Atrium when he, Jack and Ron came in from - " he paused. "I'm not sure where they were coming from, but they had Death Eaters on their trail. I don't even - I don't know how they got inside. I mean, the Ministry is supposed to be protected. It's almost as impenetrable as Hogwarts."

"An inside man, maybe," Lily suggested.

Sirius nodded, making a mental note to check in with Amelia when this was done. "I guess the powers that be were alerted to what was going on because it was as if they all descended at once."

"Who?" Lily asked.

"Voldemort himself," he said with a shudder. "He came for _something_ ," he said, looking at Lily. "He didn't get it."

Lily swallowed thickly, unable to enjoy her sudden wave of relief.

"Albus arrived as well," he continued. "The two of them duelled. It was - I mean, I get that it was dangerous and we were all fighting our own people, but it was just beautiful to watch. Say what you want about the old goat, but the bastard knows how to fight." Before Lily could admonish his cursing, he was speaking again. "Having him on the Light side is one of the main reasons that Voldemort is finding it as difficult as he has to build his forces."

"How did Harry get injured?" Lily asked, bypassing the talk of Albus Dumbledore.

"He didn't," Sirius said.

Lily frowned. "What?"

" _He_ didn't," he repeated, and Lily suddenly understood. Somebody _else_ got hurt; somebody Harry was connected to.

"Oh."

Hermione was barely listening to them, which was a good thing too, because she was a little too smart for her own good some times. Her mind was unable to stop focusing on the fact that she was in love with a boy who disappeared on her, when he assured her he wouldn't.

He _promised_ her.

"Jack?" Lily asked.

"Unconscious as well," he said. "I didn't stick around to see once Fudge arrived."

"What?"

Sirius nodded. "Fudge arrived."

"Did he see?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"Voldemort," he said slowly. "He saw Voldemort. They all did."

Lily let out a breath, feeling slightly winded by that new piece of information. "He can't hide anymore," she whispered. "It's starting, isn't it?"

Sirius shook his head. "It started with Cedric."

Lily rubbed her face with her hands. There were so many things they still needed to talk about, but she knew this wasn't the time. It wasn't just because of Hermione. The truth was that Lily wasn't ready for what was to come. She was perfectly fine living this simple life she cultivated with Sirius and her son. A son she was sure would have a few choice words for her when he woke up.

Because he knew.

Sirius knew he knew, which was bound to make the rest of this Christmas Break - probably the rest of their lives - very uncomfortable for her. For _all of_ _them_.

With the conversation well and truly over, the three of them moved to the living room. Really, Hermione could barely recall where she found the energy or the will to make the move but she was able to settle on the couch in her silence and _think_.

Which was bad.

She needed Harry to wake up. She needed to see his eyes, and she needed to hear his assurances.

Before Lily sat with them, she went upstairs to check on Harry, her eyes needing to see him after all the stress and worry he put her through in the last twenty-four hours. She put on a brave face but, as a mother, not knowing where her son was and not knowing if he was injured or in pain, was unimaginable.

Inexplicable.

She would have stayed to watch him sleep but there was a part of her that didn't want to be alone with him when he finally awoke. She wasn't brave enough and she was seriously doubting her Gryffindor status. So, she went back downstairs, her mind already coming up with suitable explanations for why -

"Lily?"

She paused at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes on Sirius. "Hmm?"

He looked away for a moment before resettling his gaze on her. "I'm sorry," he said. "They were fighting, and then Voldemort did something to Jack, and Harry _felt_ it too. I don't know how or what - " He sighed. "Both boys passed out shortly after. I did my best to get him out of there as fast as I could, and I don't think anyone _else_ saw him. Or, if they did, they wouldn't know who he is."

"Jack knows," she said.

"But hasn't he always?"

Lily swallowed. "I suppose you're right," she said. "I just - " Then: "Are you _sure_ Harry knows?"

Sirius nodded solemnly. "He knows, Lily. We can't protect him anymore."

Lily sighed, feeling defeated.

"I think you should check on Hermione," he said carefully, glancing over his shoulder at the younger witch. "This entire thing seems to have really shaken her, and Harry's going to need all of us for what happens when he wakes up."

"I was just going to do that," she said, finding the strength from somewhere deep in her reserves. She hadn't got much sleep, and she suspected she was going to need a strong cup of coffee - or three - to get through the rest of this day.

Lily moved towards him, kissed his cheek, and then walked into the living room, where she found Hermione sitting up straight, her body tense and her eyes unfocused. "Hey," Lily said, wary of interrupting the younger witch's thoughts.

Hermione still snapped to attention, startling slightly. "Oh, hey," she said, shifting in her seat. "How is he?"

"The same," Lily replied tiredly, dropping down onto the couch and sighing. She was exhausted, and all she wanted was for her son to wake up, so she could see his perfect green eyes. "It shouldn't be long now."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "All I really want to see is him laugh again," she said softly, her eyes unfocused; "hear him sing off key and watch him roll his eyes when I steal food off his plate, but my hoping it isn't enough to make it happen."

Lily wanted to reach out to her but her body looked so closed off and guarded; so _locked_. "That's more than enough for me," Lily said. "And, I'm sure it's definitely more than enough for Harry."

Hermione blinked back tears. "I don't know how I'm supposed to do this," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "How am I supposed to do this? He was just there, warm and solid in my arms, and then he was gone. Just like that. I didn't know where; I didn't know how long. I didn't even know if he was going to come back alive." She turned her head to look at Lily. " _How_ am I supposed to do this?"

Lily didn't have any answers for her.

"Is it always going to be like this?" Hermione asked. "Am I just supposed to get used to it?"

Lily wasn't sure what she was supposed to say to the young woman, given that she was struggling with the very same thing but in a different way. How _were_ they supposed to do this? All she knew was it was never going to get any easier.

"Please," Hermione practically pleaded, needing some sort of answer.

Lily had nothing. Nothing at all.

So, it was a complete and utter relief when the doorbell rang, interrupting their conversation. Lily practically jumped to her feet, wanting to get some respite from all the heavy talk. She was a little on edge, though the lack of warning from her wards kept her calm as she made her way towards the front of the house.

After the events of the past night, she shouldn't have been surprised by whom she opened the door to find.

Of course.

"Hello, my dear Lily."

She was sorely tempted to shut the door in his face.

* * *

When Harry Potter finally came to, he was lying on his bed in his bedroom. Alone.

Wait.

He was in his bedroom.

He sat up suddenly... and immediately regretted it, groaning. He was stiff and in an considerable amount of pain, but he couldn't even focus on that. If he was in his bedroom, then he was at home, which meant his mother was here.

And Sirius.

And Hermione!

He stumbled off the bed and flew to the door, flinging it open and practically racing down the stairs with the intention of finding... someone, anyone. Though, what he did end up finding was an absolute shock to his system and he practically stumbled into the living room.

"What the - " he said before he could stop himself, his eyes wide in surprise.

All heads turned to look at him.

Before Harry could even register all the faces, Hermione was rising from her seat and flinging herself at him. Her arms closed around his body, squeezing him tight enough to hurt but, before he could even register what was happening, she was releasing him.

And _hitting_ him.

Repeatedly.

"How. Dare. You. Do. That. To. Me." With every word she said, she hit his chest with a closed first. "I. Was. So. Worried." She huffed. "What. Were - "

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione stopped abruptly, and turned her head towards the person who spoke. Harry looked as well, and Professor Albus Dumbledore was on the receiving end of twin teenage glares.

Dumbledore was undeterred, of course, and pushed on: "I'm sure Mr Potter doesn't need any more - "

"Actually," Harry cut him off. "I'm perfectly capable of telling _my_ girlfriend what I do and don't need, thank you very much," he said, his tone clipped.

"Harry," Lily said, and the warning was clear in her tone.

"Will you excuse us," Harry _said_ , because it wasn't a request. Ignoring his mother's pointed look, he grabbed hold of Hermione's hand and dragged her out of the room and into the kitchen. Before he could get a word out, Hermione pushed him against the counter and _kissed_ him. It was a hard, bruising kiss that lasted barely a moment before she was beating at his chest again, leaving him dazed and confused.

"You. Had. Me. So. Worried!"

Harry wasn't even sure _what_ he could say.

She took hold of his head and forced him to look at her. "Are you okay? God, what happened to you? Are you hurt? I mean, besides the superficial stuff. _Harry_." Her voice sounded strangled, coming deep from her throat.

"Granger," he breathed, unsure what to make of this moment.

"I was - I mean - I didn't even - one second you were there, and then you just weren't!" She fought off a choked sob. "I never want to go through that again, do you hear me?"

All he could do was nod.

Hermione continued to stare at him, her eyes studying his face.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

"Of course, I'm not okay."

"I'm sorry."

She sighed heavily.

"I had no control over it," he said, though that excuse meant nothing to either of them.

"I know."

"I love you."

"I hate you a little bit right now."

He reached for her hand and tugged her closer, forcing her into his space. "I really am sorry."

Hermione leaned against him, dropping her forehead to his chest and _staying_. She wasn't moving.

Not for anything.

Not for anyone.

The moment she felt him wrap his arms around her, she was finally able to relax after what felt like forever. The two of them just stood there, holding onto each other for the longest time, before Harry broke the silence.

"Did you get any sleep?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"An hour or two," she said against his shirt. "I was a little anxious."

"I'm sorry," he said again.

She breathed him in, smelling the sweat and the blood and the scent that was distinctly Harry Potter. In that moment, she wasn't in control of herself, and she didn't like it. In fact, she hated it. She hated that she'd been so out of her mind without him. She _hated_ that this boy was doing this to her; that his _love_ was doing this to her.

Everything about the last twenty-four hours was just _horrible_ , and Hermione was filled with the strange feeling that she wanted to go home.

But, Harry was home, wasn't he?

She couldn't imagine feeling safer anywhere else. But she hated this. She didn't want to feel this way. At all.

They were in the kitchen for a lot longer than a minute, and Lily was forced to fetch them, bravely interrupting their peaceful moment. She didn't miss the heated look Harry shot her, but she did manage to ignore it.

Hermione held onto Harry's hand as they followed Lily back into the living room, her own mind spinning. She was running through various scenarios, trying to force away her fears and not make any hasty decisions.

She was failing.

The teenagers sat together on the couch, pressed close together, and waited.

Harry was distinctly uncomfortable with being in that room with those people, _and_ he was worried. There was something he was seeing in Hermione's eyes that was bothering him; something in her words and something in the way she wouldn't look at him. Even the way she was holding his hand was different; like a mixture between forcing herself not to let go and holding on for dear life.

It was unsettling and terrifying, and all he really wanted to do was take her up to his bedroom and _talk to her_.

Hold her. Reassure her. Love her.

"Harry?"

He snapped to attention, looking away from Hermione and turning his gaze on his mother. "Mum?" he said, his eyes narrowing minutely.

Lily swallowed thickly. "Uh, do you want to tell _us_ what happened?"

"Not really."

She narrowed her own eyes. "Harry."

He sighed, his eyes glancing about the room. What was Dumbledore even doing here? And Amelia Bones? Like, what on earth? They were _there_. "First, how is Jack?" he asked, which seemed to surprise his Headmaster.

Hermione's grip on Harry's hand tightened.

"As far as I know, he hasn't yet woken up," Dumbledore replied.

Harry nodded thoughtfully. He was bound to wake up soon. Jack wouldn't want Harry to have all the fun, now would he?

"How did you get to the Ministry?" Dumbledore asked.

"How do I get anywhere when Voldemort and Jack are involved?" he asked rhetorically. "I was just here, minding my own business, and then I was there."

"Where?"

Harry swallowed nervously. How could he tell them that, when he finally got his bearings, he realised that he'd actually seen that very place before?

In his dreams.

"I didn't know where it was," he finally said. "It was this large room, with lines and lines of shelves with these strange spherical balls."

Amelia and Dumbledore exchanged a look at the same time that Lily and Sirius did.

"The Hall of Prophecies," Amelia said with a slight nod.

Harry blinked. "The Hall of Prophecies?"

"It houses all the Prophecy Records as part of the Department of Mysteries," Amelia explained, her eyes on Harry. "Well, it _did_."

Harry ducked his head for a moment, flushing ever so slightly, before he looked up at them all. "I found Jack in there," he said. "He was with Ron and Ginny." He was just able to ignore the way Hermione's grip on his hand shifted. "Do you know why they were there?"

Dumbledore was the one to respond. "We learned from Mr Weasley that Jack received a message via Patronus while he was visiting at the Burrow." He shifted in his seat. "It was supposedly from an Auror in a panic, informing him that his father was under attack at the Ministry by Death Eaters. In the Hall of Prophecies."

"So, that's why he went?" Harry asked, frowning slightly.

Dumbledore nodded. "Jack was always going to go. They knew that." He leaned back, masking his sudden disapproval. He was already going to say as much to Jack when the wizard awoke. "The three of them Flooed to the Ministry immediately."

"Where were Mr and Mrs Weasley?" Hermione asked, speaking for the first time.

"At Diagon Alley," he responded. "Just the three of them were left at the Burrow, and they made their way to the Hall of Prophecies in search of James, only to find nothing."

"Except for you, Mr Potter," Amelia said. "What happened when you found them?"

"Jack told me they were looking for something," he said. "He seemed to know where we were, and he also knew there was a Prophecy about him, though he didn't know what its contents were." He frowned at his own words. "Why has he never been told what the Prophecy says?" he asked.

"What Prophecy?" Hermione asked.

Harry didn't look at her, and nobody else responded to her question. "Why?" he asked again.

"We didn't feel it was time," Dumbledore said. "We - "

"Tell me the truth," Harry insisted, cutting off what was bound to be a rehearsed response.

Dumbledore visibly deflated, his eyes searching Harry's face and finding detached determination. "We made the decision to care more for his happiness than his knowing the truth," he explained. "We cared more for his peace of mind than our plan, more for _his_ life, than the lives that might be lost if the plan ended up failing."

Harry let out a breath. "In other words, you did exactly what Voldemort expected you to do."

Dumbledore nodded. "We did." Then: "So, what happened next?"

"We split up in search of James, I guess, but I think we all knew we were really looking for the Prophecy."

"What Prophecy?" Hermione asked again, irritated that nobody was explaining that seemingly-important detail to her.

Harry, again, didn't look at her. He would explain everything to her later. "Jack and Ron went searching in one direction, and Ginny and I went in another," he said, doing his best not to react to Hermione's grip on his hand shifting once more. He could only guess it was because he mentioned Ginny's name. Shit, he was going to have _a lot_ to explain to her when this conversation was over.

"Did any of you find it?" Dumbledore asked, and his voice sounded strained for the first time since the conversation began.

" _I_ did," he said with a nod, which prompted Lily to reach for Sirius' hand. "But - "

"But what?" Dumbledore prompted, almost sounding desperate. "Did Jack retrieve the Prophecy?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Something happened."

"What happened?"

"There were people - they were waiting for us. For _him_. But - " he stopped, shaking his head. "They thought I was him, I guess," he finally said. "They were lying in wait near the Prophecy, just watching. I reached for it, but - "

"Only those mentioned in the Prophecy can remove the record from the Hall," Dumbledore said.

Harry nodded. "Exactly, yes." Though, he definitely _hadn't_ known that at the time. "They revealed themselves too soon. They were too eager. They were _worried_ we would get away, so they attacked us, wanting to get the Prophecy." This was the part where his explanation got tricky, particularly if he intended to keep what he wanted a secret... from _everyone_.

Harry cleared his throat. "They chased us, and we fought back. Lots of those, uh, Prophecy Records were destroyed in the fight. Jack - Jack never got the chance to see it."

Every person in the room - save for Hermione - breathed a sigh of relief.

"They chased us out of the Hall," Harry continued. "There were more of them outside. Jack and Ron came to help. A whole battle broke out."

"Is that when we arrived?" Amelia asked.

Harry nodded, hoping it was the end of it because he really didn't want to talk about it anymore. But, of course, his mother didn't yet know what happened after that. And, really, Harry wasn't sure what truly happened either.

"So, the Aurors arrived," Dumbledore prompted, glancing at Sirius. "As well as members of the Order."

"Which resulted in reinforcements for the Death Eaters as well," Harry said, swallowing his irritation. "Ron got injured. I don't know how that happened, though. I can't - I can't remember that part, but I think Ginny hurt her ankle. Bodies were dropping left, right and centre. We were getting the upper hand, but then - " he stopped again.

"Voldemort arrived," Sirius finished for him, and Harry felt his irritation spike once more. He didn't want Sirius to talk. Right now, he didn't even want to hear his voice. He could barely _look_ at him.

Through a tightly clenched jaw, Harry continued to speak, his eyes trained on Dumbledore. "You and Voldemort duelled."

Dumbledore nodded.

"It was evenly matched, I think," he says. "But, when you started to get the upper hand, he used Jack against you."

Dumbledore's gaze dropped slightly. "He did, indeed," he said sombrely. "I imagine my feelings for Jack will continue to be something Voldemort can and will use against me."

There was more about what happened, of course, but neither Dumbledore nor Amelia pushed for Harry to explain any further. They were there; they _watched_ as Jack lay on the ground, his body convulsing from the possession Voldemort placed upon them. All they knew was he managed to escape it, and the _how_ of that wasn't important to them.

Well, it was important to Harry.

And Lily and Sirius.

There was so much about which they needed to talk.

Harry's fingers tightened around Hermione's, prompting her to look at him. " _I love you_ ," he mouthed, but it was as if she wasn't even seeing him. Just from that, he knew he was going to have to spend a long time explaining the Prophecy, what it _could_ have meant for him and what it currently means for Jack. He's going to have to apologise and somehow reassure her that he was fine and unhurt.

Physically, at least.

And, for now.

There was a hell of a lot more going on in his mind, and it was best Hermione be protected from that until he was able to get a hold of himself.

Clearing his throat, Harry rose to his feet. "I imagine you all have adult things to talk about," he said, almost sarcastically. "Granger and I will be upstairs if you need us." Without even waiting for a response, he tugged on Hermione's hand and practically dragged her from the room, intent on getting as far away from his mother and Sirius and Dumbledore and just the suffocating atmosphere of expectation and... disappointment.

It wasn't until they were safely behind Harry's bedroom door that he released the breath he didn't even realise he was holding.

The second Hermione opened her mouth to ask him _whatever_ , his lips were on hers, silencing her. His hands gripped her hips tightly, _holding_ onto her as if he were worried she was going to disappear. He took steps forward until her back hit the door, and she moaned right into his mouth.

"Don't," he pleaded, whispering against her skin. "Just, please don't ask me yet. _Please_."

All Hermione could do was nod, kissing him again and sliding her arms around his neck. It was easier to ignore her own trembling hands when her fingers were in his hair, drawing him closer and revelling in the solid warmth of him. She spent hours thinking she would never see him again, and she wasn't going to allow herself to spend another minute thinking about it. She was just going to hold him in her arms and try to forget everything else.

It lasted only a few minutes because, the second Harry pulled his mouth away, every fear she had came flooding back, clouding her vision and affecting her breathing.

"I - " she started to say but stopped suddenly. She wasn't even sure _what_ she was going to say.

Harry's emerald eyes just took her in, his gaze unwavering. "Lie down with me," he whispered, eager to put off the inevitable conversation for as long as possible.

Again, Hermione just nodded and allowed him to lead her further into the room towards the bed. Slowly, almost reverently, they both lay down, Harry behind her with his front pressed against her back and his arms firmly around her shaking body. Hermione didn't think she could stand to look at him, anyway.

"I'm sorry," Harry murmured against her shoulder, his eyes closed and his breathing laboured.

Hermione didn't bother to ask for what he was apologising. She just closed her eyes and tried her best not to think this may be the last time she would be able to fall asleep held in his arms this way.

* * *

When Harry's eyes next opened, Hermione was no longer in bed with him. It took him a long moment to gather his bearing and realise she wasn't even in his bedroom.

His mother was.

Harry groaned for a number of reasons, one of which _was_ the older witch perched on the edge of his bed with a pensive look on her face. Harry was also in a bit of pain, he was exhausted, and he was beyond irritated with the lies he discovered at the Ministry.

At his stirring, Lily turned her attention on her son. "Harry," she said gently. "Sweetheart, I think you and I need to have a little talk."

Ignoring her, Harry rolled out of bed, stood and stretched. He almost wanted to scoff at just how absurd this all was, but his heart was already thundering in his chest from his growing anger. He didn't know how long he'd been asleep and he didn't know where Hermione was. Honestly, the _last_ thing he wanted to do was talk to his mother.

"Ask me," Lily said, sounding much calmer than she actually felt.

That time, he did scoff, the sound foreign on his lips. "How long?" he asked, keeping his back to her.

"Harry?"

"How. Long?" he repeated, turning around to look at her. There was anger in his eyes, and confusion and hurt. He looked deeply _hurt_. "How long have you known?"

Lily didn't know how to answer his question, even though it was something she was expecting him to ask.

"Tell me how long you've known," he said strongly. "Tell me."

Lily swallowed. "A few years."

"Since _when_?" he pressed. "I want specifics."

"We've always had our suspicions, but your fourth year made us sure of it."

"Us?"

"Sirius and I," she said. "And Remus."

Harry practically growled with his sudden irritation, indignation and anger. "Is that why he's been gone all this time?"

She nodded. "He's been doing research, yes," she said.

"Research," he echoed, his head shaking. "So, you've known since then?" he clarified. "Since the graveyard?"

She nodded again, realising that she had to limit the number of words she said. He was easily provokable in this state, and who knew how his blow-up would eventually manifest? She could already feel his magic rumbling in the air and she definitely wasn't strong enough to contain it if he happened to lose control. It's been years since his magical ability surpassed hers.

"And that's why you let Sirius train me?"

Another nod.

"Why didn't you just _tell_ me?" he asked, his voice taking on a quality she'd never heard before. He sounded _harsh_ , and it just didn't match the Harry Potter she knew and loved. She couldn't help thinking it was the _James_ in him shining through, almost as a reflex to protect his emotional state.

"Harry."

"Why?" he snapped, and Lily flinched. "Why? Why wouldn't you tell me that - " he paused, gathering himself. "Why wouldn't you tell me it wouldn't have mattered if Jack found the Prophecy Record first because he wouldn't have even be able to retrieve it?"

Lily's breathing stilled, the air freezing in her throat.

"Why didn't you tell me that _I_ would?"

There it was.

It was out there.

Harry Potter _knew_ , and Lily Evans wasn't the one to tell him. She imagined _that_ was the part that truly bothered him. It was one thing for his entire identity to be skewed, but a completely other thing to have his parental figures so blatantly _lie_ to him.

"So, imagine my surprise when I came across the Prophecy we were all so desperately looking for, only to find that Jack's name wasn't even on it... _Mine_ was."

"Harry - " she started, but he cut her off.

" _Harry_ is right," he said, practically growling. "Harry Potter. _Harry_ Potter. Not Jack Potter, Mum, but Harry Potter." He shook his head in disgust. "Why?" he asked. "Tell me _why_."

Lily had absolutely no idea _what_ to tell him.

"You lied to me!" he said heatedly. "You _lied_ to me! I - I thought we didn't _do_ that! It's always been you and me against the world, and we've always told each other the _truth_! Why didn't you tell me? Why? God, _why_?"

"You two," Sirius suddenly said, interrupting mother and son as he entered the room with a concerned look on his face. "Are you _trying_ to wake up the entire neighbourhood?"

Harry turned his gaze on him, his eyes practically glowing. Sirius had never seen such a look on his face, and he actually stepped back in both surprise and, he dare say, fear. He didn't think this entire thing would be such a revelation to Harry, but the teenager looked legitimately _shaken_ by all he learned.

But it wasn't actually even about the new truth, was it? It was that they'd _lied_ to him about it for so long. They'd kept it from him, in their attempts to try to protect him; to preserve his childhood; to -

Really, they'd done _exactly_ what Dumbledore, James and Marlene did with Jack, and Sirius had a feeling Harry would never forgive them for it. Everything about their lives would have been different if the truth was _known_. Harry wouldn't have felt so... lost, out-of-sorts, hidden. Abandoned, rejected, _hated_.

Again, Sirius had to remind himself that it wasn't even about that either. It was about more than that for Harry. For some reason, the teenager could have handled whatever this lie did to _his_ life, but it was more than that. _He_ wasn't the only person involved in this sickening conspiracy where life and death were continually in the balance the same way Light and Dark were.

"I realise you're angry, Harry," Sirius started; "but you should - "

"Don't," Harry snapped, his eyes narrowing at Sirius. "Don't you dare tell me what I should or shouldn't do."

"Harry!" Lily reprimanded.

"What?" he countered immediately, his fierce gaze back on her. "Do you honestly expect me to just listen to either of you right now? Because, if you do, I'm sorry to disappoint." There was something dark in his tone that put Lily on edge.

"Harry, please, you have to understand that - "

"No!" he bellowed, cutting her off. "It's _you_ who doesn't understand?" he snapped. "Don't you _get_ it? Your lies could have killed _Jack_!"

They all froze, the words hanging in the air and the truth of them _suffocating_.

Harry practically growled in frustration as he violently tugged on his hair. "He isn't even the one who's supposed to be facing off against Voldemort, and yet the two of you have been perfectly fine with letting him be the one constantly in danger. He doesn't have the _whatever_ that's needed to defeat him! So, I'm asking you, why? What were you expecting to happen, huh?" He glared at them both. "I've spent some time thinking about it and the one thing I keep coming up with makes me _sick_... Because the only thing that comes to mind if... better it be Jack who dies and not _me_ because _I'm_ the one who's going to be needed in the final battle? Is that it?"

Neither adult could think of anything suitable to say.

Harry couldn't take it anymore. He didn't even want to listen to whatever they could think up to say or hear them try to justify their decision to withhold so much from him. Growling lowly, he fled from the room, pushing past Sirius, and descended the stairs with the intention of leaving the house. It was heavy and suffocating, and he just had to get _out_. He just - he needed to find Hermione first... wherever she was.

Heading down the stairs, he found her in the living room, curled up on the couch with her eyes closed. He could tell she wasn't asleep, but there was something oddly serene about the picture she represented, and his ire quickly died. He stumbled further into the room, dropping to his knees in front of her and resting his head in her lap. Without even opening her eyes, Hermione's fingers slid into his soft hair, both of them finding comfort in the action.

Harry wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. It felt as if his entire world was crumbling down around him. For so long, he was a certain person, but now he just _wasn't_. It was all different now. _He_ felt different, and he wasn't sure how he was supposed to make sense of any of that when he couldn't get past the sudden and raw _anger_ he felt.

"You were shouting," Hermione said softly, her fingers growing still. "Is everything okay?"

"No."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Definitely not."

Hermione sighed, her skin prickling with how _off_ everything suddenly was. This was what she wanted. _He_ was all she wanted, and that terrified her more than she would be willing to admit to herself - let alone to herself. "Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Is there something you need to tell me?"

He sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly. "There's plenty."

"Does it have anything to do with the reason you disappeared?"

For a moment, he said and did nothing. There was something in her voice that immediately put him on edge, and he was hit by the irrepressible urge to lie to her. For some reason, he just _knew_ it would be the only way to keep her here with him. "Granger," he whispered, which was answer enough.

Hermione immediately tensed, knowing immediately that she wasn't ready for any of this. Whatever it was he needed to tell her, it was obvious she wasn't going to like it. She doubted she would be able to handle it, anyway, because she was suddenly certain that his latest _disappearance_ wasn't going to be the last one. This was just the beginning.

And she wanted -

All she wanted was Harry, but even she wasn't naive enough to think it would be that easy. They could try to fool themselves as much as they wanted to but the truth of the matter would always remain: they would never be able to have a simple, teenage romance where the most they had to deal with was innocent miscommunication and _which cupboard was best for making out_?

No.

Hermione was already a damaged individual, and she never considered that Harry Potter would ever be capable of breaking her any further until that very moment. It would never be on purpose because he was too precious for that, but their circumstances had changed and Hermione knew she would never survive the day he left her. There would be a day, she just knew, and she knew it would crush her.

Which was why she said what she said.

"I think I'm going to go home, Harry," she said, making his breath catch in his throat as he lifted his head. "I - umm - I need to go home."

For the longest time, all he did was stare at her, his eyes searching her face for the truth behind her words. It was obvious to him that the last thing she wanted to was go home, but he could also tell she wanted to be anywhere but _here_. With _him_.

And, this was before she even knew _he_ was the one fated to end Voldemort.

Merlin Almighty.

If he tried hard enough, maybe he could convince himself this was for the better.

"I have to go," she said, unable to look him in the eye.

All he could do was nod as he slowly rose to his feet, suddenly feeling weary beyond his years. "Have you packed already?"

She nodded.

He swallowed audibly, forcing himself not to display his sudden panic. Something was wrong with her and with _them_ , and he could feel it in every lack of touch and avoided gaze. "Granger?" he whispered, needing her to look at him.

"Harry."

"I'm sorry," he said, as if it were enough to make her stay.

But it wasn't.

It would never be.

"Walk with me, Harry."

He wanted to reach out for her, pull her to him and never let her go but she looked determined to leave, and Harry wasn't going to force her to stay. He would never force her to do anything she didn't want to. Which was why he followed her out of the house and into the backyard; into the very place where the nightmare first started.

Hermione came to a stop first and turned to look at him, her heart suddenly hurting. She tried to keep her feelings off her face but she must have failed because Harry's own face twisted into a look of reserved devastation.

"You're not coming back, are you?" he asked.

She bit at her bottom lip for a moment before she spoke. "No, Harry, I'm not."

"Is it because of what happened yesterday?"

She didn't respond.

"Talk to me, Granger."

She let out a breath. "You told me I could need you; that I was allowed to need you because you wouldn't let me down; because you would always come through for me," she said, fighting off her tears. "But then you almost died, Harry. You arrived here unconscious after you disappeared for _hours_ because you were fighting _Death Eaters_. What if you never came back? What if you never woke up? Where would that leave me, huh? What happens to me if _you're_ gone? What happens to me if you just leave?"

"But I'm still here, Granger," he tried to tell her, unable to keep the pleading out of his voice. "I'm right here. Look at me. I'm not going anywhere."

"You don't know that," she argued, tears pooling in her eyes. "I can't go through that again, Harry. I can't and I won't."

"Hermione?"

"Just - " she cried, ignoring his use of her first name. "I just need some time, okay? I need to wrap my head around all of this, okay? Can you give me some time? Please? I don't know what I would do without you, and I need time to come to terms with what that means for me and you and _us_."

It broke his heart but he knew he would ultimately agree, because he loved her and he would do anything and everything for her. It would, one day, be his undoing, but even he knew this was what they both needed. As much as he hated it, he knew she would need to _go_ to come back. To him.

"How long do you need?" he asked softly.

"I don't know."

He nodded slowly, feeling his heart breaking. "Okay." He took a step back, and then another and another. She was watching him move away, debating with herself once more. "Hermione?" he called out, getting her attention. "I love you."

She didn't respond; she couldn't even if she tried. She just looked at him for a long moment, as if she were trying to memorise the very fabric of him.

And, then, she too was gone.


	24. Distance and Time

**Chapter Twenty-Four:** **Distance and Time**

Lily found Harry outside, walking a path on the back lawn that resembled an eight.

Or, an infinity sign, if one was being finicky.

He looked morose, solemn in a way she'd never seen before and it was heartbreaking to see.

"Sweetheart?" she attempted, keeping her voice as steady as she could manage in this unpredictable situation.

Harry looked up at her, but his movement didn't stop. "Mum," he said calmly, a slight warning in his tone.

"What are you doing?" she asked, which was probably a mistake because he clearly didn't look like he wanted to talk.

"Walking."

She blinked. "Harry?"

He stopped walking. "What?" he bit out. "What do you want now?"

She stepped back, surprised by his outburst. "Harry," she said in surprise. "Where's Hermione?" she asked, which she realised was yet another mistake when his eyes snapped towards her.

"Where do you _think_ she is?" he asked, a certain harshness in his tone. "She's _gone_."

She frowned. "Gone where?"

"Does it matter?" he asked sarcastically. "Away from here. Away from _me_."

She blinked. "Oh, Harry," she whispered.

"Don't," he said tiredly, holding up a hand to stop whatever she planned to say. "Please, just, don't."

And Lily didn't.

What could she say anyway?

She _lied_ to her son for years, and she could only imagine what was going on in his head in this moment. It must be a lot, because Harry was never so rude or dismissive towards her.

"I mean," he started, his pacing resuming. "How can I even blame her, you know? I'm this - this _thing_ , and I'll just put her in danger if we _are_ together. She's better off without me. I mean, she doesn't even know _what_ I am, but her self-preservation senses are already kicking in. Can you imagine that? Without even _knowing_ , she already knows I'm bad for her. I'm bad for everyone."

"Don't say that," Lily said, risking speaking. This person wasn't her son. He _never_ would have held a pity-party for himself.

Harry merely shook his head, before he started back towards the house. He didn't want to talk about it anymore, which was why he retreated to his bedroom, closed and locked the door and desperately tried to shut out the rest of the world.

Hermione was gone.

He had to convince himself not to go after her.

Harry moved towards his chest of drawers and slid open the top drawer to reveal his socks and underwear. He cleared some space in the back before he reached into the pocket of his trousers. To the naked eye, it seemed there was nothing in it, but his hand still closed around the cold, spherical object. He pulled the item out and stared at the wisps and gentle light of the Prophecy Record that was supposedly destroyed.

 _ **S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D  
**_ _ **Dark Lord  
**_ _ **and (?) Harry Potter**_

Hmm.

Harry shook his head quickly, shoving the sphere into the deepest part of the drawer.

They wanted proof, huh?

Well, there it was.

And, if Harry had his way, nobody would ever lay eyes on it but him.

* * *

"Harry," Sirius said, knocking on the open door. "Got a minute?"

Harry just tossed a t-shirt into his trunk. "Is something wrong?" he asked, allowing Sirius to enter his bedroom without giving express permission.

Well, there were a lot of things wrong, but Sirius didn't say anything about that. The last thing he wanted was to get into another argument with his godson about things that were now out of his control. As much as he didn't want to be having this conversation, it was unfortunately necessary. They needed to _talk_ , especially now that The Daily Prophet just confirmed the return of Voldemort.

Things were about to get... even more hairy than they already were.

"Look," Sirius started, cautiously stepping into the room. "I know you're angry right now."

Almost automatically, Harry's eyes narrowed.

'Angry' was definitely one way to put it.

"I've been meaning to talk to you about something for some time now," Sirius continued, seemingly undeterred. "I just - I never quite found the right time, but it's something we have to talk about before you leave."

"Why?" Harry quipped. "Are you worried Voldemort will kill me before we see each other again?"

Sirius pressed his lips together, but he wisely didn't respond the way he initially wanted to. Harry was baiting him, and he was determined to be the adult here. "No," he said calmly. "You know more than anyone that the War has officially arrived, and I think I've waited long enough."

Harry frowned. What was Sirius talking about?

"Harry," Sirius said, sounding more serious than Harry ever heard him. "I would like to ask Lily to marry me."

Despite his residual anger, Harry's mouth dropped in surprise, before it spread into a wide smile. "Really?"

Sirius nodded. "Really."

"Are you asking for my permission?"

"More like your blessing," Sirius said. "I'm going to marry her whether you like it or not."

"She has to say yes first, Sirius," Harry said flatly, but there was a hint of amusement in his emerald eyes.

Sirius tried not to roll his own eyes, failing dismally. "What do _you_ say?" he asked.

"I think you should definitely ask her," he said. "I don't know why it took you _all_ Break to ask a question you already know the answer to."

Sirius shifted his weight from his left foot to his right, looking uncomfortable. "Well, there's actually more to it," he said nervously. "I _have_ spoken to your mother about this and I suspect she'll probably also talk to you about it _after_."

"After what?"

"After you start talking to her again."

Harry said nothing.

Sirius sighed. "Well, look, you don't have to decide now. There's time."

"Time for what?"

"Time for you to think about it."

"Think about what?"

Sirius waited a beat, searching for the words. "I want to ask Lily to marry me, Harry, but I also want to ask you if - " he hesitated; " - if you'd like to be my son."

Harry frowned. What?

"I'd very much like to adopt you, Harry. I want you to be my _official_ heir - not just because of some Will - and I want us all to be a family," he said. "A _real_ family."

For the longest moment, Harry just stared blankly at his godfather, unable to process what he was being told. "Wait," he said; "you want to _adopt_ me?"

"Only if you want that," Sirius quickly said, unsure if he would be able to handle the rejection. "I mean, I know you're almost seventeen and it's all moot anyway, but I would really like to be able to call you my son in the truest way possible." When Harry just continued to stare at him, Sirius decided the poor boy _had_ to be overwhelmed, which was why he offered him the _out_ he suspected he needed. "Look, Harry, you don't have to make any decisions now," he said, smiling in sympathy. "I know it's a lot to take in, and the last thing I want is for you to make a hasty decision that you may end up regretting, okay?"

Harry blinked once, twice, and then nodded. "Okay."

"Are you almost done packing?" Sirius asked, clearing his throat and moving them along. He suspected they _both_ needed a change in topic.

"I just have a few more things," he said quietly, his mind elsewhere.

Sirius stepped towards the edge of the bed, his eyes lingering on the picture of Hermione sitting on Harry's bedside table. He understood the young witch was a sore subject for Harry at the moment, but there were still a few things he needed to say to the teenager.

Some very important things.

"Harry," Sirius started seriously. "Nobody can know."

Harry said nothing.

"It's important the truth of who you are, and who Jack is, remains secret to everyone," he continued. "Do we understand each other?"

Harry audibly swallowed, nodding once. "We do."

Sirius sighed. "For what it's worth, I _am_ sorry, Harry. We both are."

"I know," Harry said.

"We never meant to hurt you."

Harry frowned. "Is that what you think I am? Hurt?"

Sirius turned to look at him. "Isn't that what you are?"

"Partly," he confessed. "But it's more than that." He dropped his gaze. "It's - " he stopped, suddenly unsure if he would even be able to explain himself. "My entire life, I've known these... facts about myself. These _truths_ , almost, and they've helped me come to terms with the - the box I've been put in. One is that my father never wanted me. Another is that my brother is the Boy-Who-Lived. The third is that my mother would never lie to me, and the fourth is that the only thing I'm good for is making sure Jack Potter _doesn't_ get killed, so he can finally defeat Voldemort." He paused. "Everything I thought I knew has been decimated."

Sirius let out a long sigh. "So, you _are_ hurt?" he asked. "Just, on a deeper level than Lily and I understand."

"I don't know who I am anymore," he admitted, the movement of his hands growing still. "I thought - I thought I had a _choice_ , but I don't, do I?"

"We always have a choice, Harry."

Harry raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "You don't honestly believe that, do you?"

Sirius shrugged. "I'm an optimist, or whatever."

"You're such an idiot," Harry said, shaking his head in amusement.

"Fine, fine," Sirius relented, relieved to get a smile out of his godson, even if it was a tiny one. For a while, it looked as if the teenager was _never_ going to smile. "I'll give you this much, then. We cannot _choose_ our fate, but we can choose it for others," Sirius said. "It's a wildly unfair concept because I know you never would have asked for this."

Harry shook his head. "No, Sirius," he said. "I would rather it be me than anybody else. If I'm the one who has to - " his voice caught, unable to finish his sentence. "Just, I'd rather it be me."

" _I_ wouldn't."

"Well, I don't really care what you want," Harry said, the words harsh but his tone slightly amused.

Sirius smiled sadly. At this point, it didn't even _matter_ what he wanted. If he had it his way, he would take Harry and Lily and escape Britain all together. They would go somewhere far, far away and just _live_ , but even he knew they would never be happy wherever they ended up. Just the _thought_ of people dying when they could be helping, somehow, would plague them for the rest of their lives, and he didn't want that for Harry, Lily or himself.

Harry cleared his throat. "I'm going back to school, Sirius," he said. "Apparently, I have people to protect, but so do you. _Nothing_ can happen to my mother. I don't care _what_ you have to do, or _how_ you have to do it. You keep her safe. Nothing happens to her."

Sirius met his emerald gaze, noting the severity and intensity in his eyes. "I would much rather die than let anything happen to Lily," he declared seriously. "I know you know that."

Harry's stance faltered slightly. "Don't do that either," he warned. "She won't survive losing you."

"And _you_ won't survive losing _her_ ," Sirius immediately countered.

Harry sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Will anything ever be easy?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.

"Probably not," Sirius replied, truthfully and sombrely. "But, tell me this, _would_ you want an easy life if it meant..." he trailed off, suddenly unsure what he wanted to say. He didn't even want to entertain the idea of a life without Lily or Harry or the prospect of the family they had the potential to build.

"No," Harry answered anyway, sensing the content of the unasked question. "I don't suppose I would."

Sirius stepped towards him. "I realise this is all especially difficult for you, but you're made of strong stuff. You _have_ to be to get through all you already have. I know it'll take a while for you to trust us again, but just know that, as off base as you imagine we were, all we've ever done is for your protection. Maybe you can't understand it now, but I hope you will, one day."

"Are you about to tell me I have to have children of my own first?"

Sirius chuckled. "Perhaps," he conceded. "But, you know, hold off on that for a few years," he said; "I'm far too young to be a grandfather."

Harry's lips thinned into a line. "I can't imagine myself starting a family with anyone other than Granger," he confessed quietly, his brow furrowing. "What if - what if I don't get her back, Sirius? What if it's all too much, and she decides she _really_ doesn't want me? What do I do then?"

Sirius placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know I talk a good game about me and the ladies, but it kind of took Hermione kicking me into gear to get things sorted out with Lily," he said, sighing. "My best advice, right now, is to talk to Hermione. Everyone's emotions were running high that day, and she panicked and ran. She might be seeing things differently now that a few days have passed."

Harry didn't get his hopes up for that happening. He doubted she wanted him to talk to her at this point. If he knew her at all - and he liked to think he did - then the more time he gave her to work through things without him; the better.

Hermione was a stubborn witch.

A little selfish too, a tiny voice muttered at the back of his mind, but he studiously ignored it. He was well-practiced in compartmentalisation these days, and he was able to file things away to be analysed at a later time. His brain was overwhelmed enough.

"Sirius?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think I'm ready?" he asked. "If Voldemort ever truly came for me; do you think I would be able to take him?"

Sirius swallowed, considering the question seriously. "I think you could hold your own," he finally said. "The problem with going up against someone like Voldemort is that he very rarely fights... fair. And, if he can help it, he wouldn't fight _himself_ , at all."

"It's why he's been growing his... army?"

Sirius nodded. "I don't want you to worry about all of this now," he said. "You're safe at Hogwarts." He laughed at the incredulous look Harry sent him. "Well, you're _relatively_ safe," he clarified; "from Death Eaters, at least."

Harry rolled his eyes, unable to mask his amusement.

"I think it remains without saying that you should keep up with your training," Sirius said. "Keep up with the fitness and with your spells, okay? Stay alert, but do try to enjoy the rest of your sixth year, okay? You get only one of them."

"We hope," Harry joked, and Sirius was immensely pleased that the teenager didn't seem to be so angry anymore. He knew it was probably a brief respite, but he would take what he could get.

"It's going to be okay, you know," Sirius found himself saying, his mouth moving before his brain could fully compute the words he was saying.

Harry's good humour instantly vanished. "You can't know that," he said, his voice _hard_.

"Maybe not," Sirius allowed; "but I'm bloody well going to try to make sure of it."

* * *

"No Hermione, huh?"

Harry glanced at Luna from his seat on the Express, wondering why she asked the question even though she clearly already _knew_ the answer. Either way, Harry swallowed painfully and nodded. "I think she's at the Prefects' meeting," he answered, frowning slightly. "Or, she could be back at Hogwarts already, for all I know."

He didn't even know _where_ she was.

How was he supposed to protect her when he didn't even know her location?

Luna moved to sit beside him, absently leaning against him as they waited for the train to fill up with students returning from the Break that seemed to last way too long and fly past all at the same time. "Do you know what I think?" she asked after a long silence.

"What?"

"I think the things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the way we expect," Luna said.

Harry sighed. "That doesn't really make me feel better."

"It's not meant to."

"Then, why did you say it?"

"Because, one day, maybe it will."

* * *

Hermione lasted exactly fourteen minutes of Jack sneaking looks at her before she set her fork down and levelled him with a glare heated enough to make him flinch. "Can I help you with something?" she asked pointedly, trying and failing to keep her irritation at bay. She didn't understand why everyone was making it such a big deal that she was sitting at the Gryffindor table while Harry was at the Hufflepuff one.

They didn't always have to sit together.

Jack cleared his throat. "Are you... okay?"

For the most part, Hermione probably wasn't okay, and it threw her slightly to have him ask the question so frankly. "Of course," she lied. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Jack sighed, internally giving himself the pep talk to get through this conversation, when it was quite possibly the last thing he wanted to do. It was times like these that he really wondered about his own motivations. If anything, he should be ecstatic that Harry and Hermione seemed to be... having trouble. But, for all his desires, Jack just couldn't bring himself to _feel_ that. Something like that just... wouldn't settle within him.

It didn't feel right, and he was trying not to be too much like his father.

So, sighing heavily, he asked _the_ question.

"Are you _and Harry_ okay?" he prodded carefully, keeping his face as blank as possible. He was trying to be better, and he had to reason that helping his former best friend and his half-brother sort out their relationship woes would have to count for something, right? Maybe, then, Hermione wouldn't look at him as if she no longer recognised him. That was the part that hurt the most, and he was determined to fix it.

Hermione moved to dismiss his concern - was it concern? - even opening her mouth to put an end to the line of questioning, but her voice faltered. She was just so... confused.

And heartsore.

And so many other things she didn't really understand.

Harry would. He understood more about her than she ever would, and she knew that was why he still hadn't tried to talk to her.

He _knew_ she wasn't ready, and yet here was Jack who was planning on... pushing her.

It had to come from Jack, Hermione reasoned. It had to come from someone who wasn't Harry, or a Mosstrooper, but someone who could still understand _her_. Because, maybe their relationship had changed drastically since the start of their fifth year, but she and Jack were friends once. _Best_ friends, in fact. All of that didn't just disappear because everything else changed, did it?

"Honestly," she breathed; "no, we're not."

Jack blinked, a bit surprised that she would even confess that much. "Did - did something happen?"

Hermione's stare intensified. "I don't know, Jack," she mused; " _did_ something happen?"

Jack took a moment, but it clicked eventually. "Oh, this is about... that thing?" he asked, referring to the exciting events of the Break.

Hermione couldn't categorically say if it was or wasn't about that _thing_. If anything, she thought she just used the entire Department of Mysteries debacle as an excuse to pull away from Harry because... well, because she was emotionally stunted and a coward beyond help. She spent the last days of their Break mulling over it between awkward and stilted conversations with her parents and reading up on their upcoming schoolwork.

She thought she would be relieved to be back at school, if only to get away from her parents and their attempts to patch up wounds with tape, when they actually required surgery, but the relief didn't hit. Hogwarts used to be her safe haven, her comfort zone, and now she felt out-of-sorts and severely off-kilter. If anything, Hermione _still_ felt raw and vulnerable after spending time with her parents, and all she wanted was to be cocooned in the safety and warmth of Harry's strong arms.

"Are you angry?" Jack asked cautiously, sensing the storm behind her dark eyes.

Hermione remained silent.

"Because, I mean, it isn't even his fault," Jack continued. "It's mainly mine." And, the fact that he was even admitting that had to mean something. It definitely piqued Hermione's interest, and she kept her focus on him. "I never should have believed that my dad was in danger, and we definitely shouldn't have taken off by ourselves." He looked a little sheepish. "Do you know what Harry told me when he showed up at the Ministry and I told him what happened?"

"That you're an idiot?"

He actually grinned. "Well, _after_ that."

Hermione found it in herself to return his smile with a dimmer one of her own. "What did he say?"

"That we definitely wouldn't have ended up in that mess if you were around." The sentence started off light, but he finished it with a certain heaviness to his tone that gave them both pause.

 _If she were around_.

So many things changed in the last year, and they weren't just able to ignore any of it. Hermione would have liked to. A large part of her wanted to be able to go back in time, knowing what she now knew, and try to do things differently. She would definitely try to get to know Harry better much earlier in their school lives, and she wouldn't spend so much time second-guessing everything - including herself and her feelings.

She would also probably pay closer attention to Ginny. Sometimes, Hermione allowed herself to think that Ginny's actions were partly her own fault, which she _knew_ was ridiculous, but she couldn't help it. The same way she couldn't help but run when she was faced with the possibility of actually _losing_ Harry, not on her own terms.

She was just so tired of everything having to be _so hard_.

Why couldn't _one thing_ be easy?

"Jack," Hermione suddenly said, startling them both. "What do you know about the... Prophecy?"

Jack's features immediately darkened, and she almost wished she didn't ask. But, then, his body deflated and he leaned forward. "Didn't Harry tell you?"

Hermione clenched her jaw. She didn't exactly give him time to tell her, and she was able to reason that her sense of _flight_ kicked in the second it sensed that she probably wasn't going to like whatever new truth-bomb he was bound to drop on her. "No, he didn't," she answered.

Jack glanced over his shoulder, surveying the people around him. "Not here," he said. "Too many ears."

Hermione just nodded, realising the necessity of that.

Jack leaned forward. "Maybe we can go for a walk later," he offered, and then gave pause as he replayed his words. "Uh, a purely platonic walk, I mean," he added hastily. "It just seems that you could use a friend."

She dropped her gaze, positively _hating_ that she was so easy to read. She wasn't meant to be so transparent. But, then again, this _was_ Jack, and they spent _years_ getting to know each other. "I'd like that," she said.

Before Jack could make any further plans, the sound of shouting reverberated in the Hall, and their collective attention was drawn towards the Hufflepuff table where Ron was standing in front of Harry and... serenading him.

Hermione rose to her feet, almost automatically, sensing something was amiss.

Jack watched for a moment, and then turned back, laughing uncontrollably.

"What's happening?" Hermione asked, realising that Jack knew more than most. "Is - is Ron - oh my God - is that a _rose_ he's giving Harry?"

Jack glanced over his shoulder again, and then laughed even harder. "Oh, Merlin, this is too good."

"What? What is happening?"

"I'm surprised you don't know."

When it clicked, her mouth spread into a grin. "Oh, I see," she said. "It seems to me that Ron has developed himself a bit of a crush on one of Gryffindor's prized Chasers."

"You should have heard him on the train," Jack said, laughing hysterically now. "He _couldn't_ stop talking about how handsome Harry is, or how mesmerising his eyes are." He doubled over, clutching at his stomach. "Everyone was looking at him as if he'd completely lost it, and Emily was as confused as the rest of them."

Hermione let out a giggle as she retook her seat. "The next few days are going to be interesting, aren't they?"

Jack nodded. "One could say that, yes."

* * *

"Wait."

Jack paused.

"What does that even _mean_?" Hermione asked.

Jack was tempted to shrug, but he was actually curious to hear her thoughts on the Prophecy. They hadn't managed to get around to their _purely platonic walk_ for a few days, given that Jack constantly had to stop Ron from trying to get Harry to go on a date with him. The redhead made an utter fool of himself in his pursuits of his fellow Gryffindor, his determination intensifying with every one of Harry's rejections.

But, it was over now.

Luna finally took pity on the boy, and Jack didn't think Ron was ever going to use an unknown spell ever again in his life.

"I don't really know," Jack eventually told Hermione. "Dumbledore claims the 'power he knows not' I seem to possess is... love."

Hermione blinked. "Love?"

"Don't ask me," he said, actually shrugging this time. "I suck at Divination."

"I still don't know why you insisted on taking that horrid subject."

"It was supposed to be an easy Outstanding," he defended. "Though, it more or less just freaked me out even more about everything."

"It was Trelawney, you said?"

Jack nodded. "As far as I'm aware."

Hermione seemed to give it some thought, but she wasn't willing to voice her opinions when Jack looked as lost about the entire thing as he currently did. She couldn't even imagine what it must be like for him, and she was actively forcing herself _not_ to think about Harry's involvement in all of this. She couldn't figure if she was allowed to be relieved that the 'Chosen One' wasn't Harry, when it was Jack? It just didn't seem fair.

"How - how do _you_ feel about all of it?" she asked, trying to buy herself some time.

"Honestly?"

She met his gaze unflinchingly, silently giving him the permission to unload.

"I'm angry," was the first thing he said. "I'm - I'm _enraged_ , Hermione. My parents and Dumbledore have known about _why_ Voldemort has been coming after me for _years_ , and none of them thought to tell me it was because I was - " he stopped, his voice catching. "Because I was fated to kill him or be killed by him," he finished in a small voice, sounding younger than Hermione had ever heard him, and she's known him since they were eleven years old.

Hermione reached for his closest hand, confident he wouldn't read too much into it. "Jack," she breathed, trying and probably failing to soothe him.

"I kind of destroyed the library at Grimmauld Place when they told me," he admitted sheepishly, his gaze dropping to their joined hands. It didn't feel the way it used to. There was comfort, yes, but that was about it. "I'm - I'm not proud of it, but - but I could have been _more_ prepared to face him all those other times if I just _knew_." He looked borderline distraught, and she squeezed his hand in sympathy. "I would have understood what I was seeing, and I would _never_ have let us go to the Ministry. People - people wouldn't have been hurt, and nobody would have died."

Hermione sucked in a sharp breath. "Someone died?"

Jack blinked. "I thought you knew?"

If Hermione could feel any worse about her situation with Harry, now would be the time. She hadn't even let them _talk_ , before she was running away. "No, I don't know."

"Because you and Harry aren't talking?"

She sighed. "Yes."

Jack didn't think now was the time to ask more questions about that, though he suspected they were going to have to discuss it at some point. She looked as if she needed it and, with all sorts of relationships lying in the balance, he was oddly determined to help her with her own with Harry. He'd done so many wrongs by Harry up to this point, and he was determined to do right by him.

Oh, how things had changed.

"Two Aurors were killed," Jack eventually explained. "It doesn't even matter that they caught three Death Eaters in the process, who decidedly _aren't_ revealing anything about what Voldemort has planned. Because, I mean, now they _know_ he's back, and he has a plan, because why wouldn't he? I mean, what has the Ministry being doing this entire time, when they didn't _believe_ me? They could have been _preparing_! They could have - " he stopped, startling himself with how worked up he was getting. "Sorry," he murmured. "I'm just saying, _of course_ , he has a plan, and more people are just going to die if we don't do something about it."

"We?"

He breathed out heavily. "It's up to me, Hermione," he said morosely. "It's never been more true than right now. There's no escaping it. It _has_ to be me."

Before Hermione could stop herself, her mouth was moving: "And Harry."

Jack took a moment. "I suppose, yes," he said. "He's always been there, even when both of us didn't want him to be."

"He's pesky like that."

Jacked smiled sadly. "I'm going to need him, Hermione," he said; "which means he's going to need you. We both are."

She audibly swallowed, unable to look him in the eye.

"So, whatever you two have going on, please can you fix it," he said. "Because, it's obvious to me and everyone else that - "

"I'm the problem," she finished.

"I wasn't going to say that."

"But, you were thinking it," she pointed out. "And, you're right in your assumption."

"No, Hermione," he argued. "I don't think that, and Harry definitely doesn't. If we're going to be speaking truths here, then you're going to have to admit that _you're_ the _only one_ who does. It's why we're in this mess, isn't it?"

"I've _always_ been a mess, Jack."

He shrugged. "So have I," he said easily. "We can be messes together."

"Can - can I tell you what happened?"

"Of course." He shifted on the couch they commandeered in the back of the library, trying to get more comfortable to deal with the upcoming discussion. It was Hermione's turn to unload, after he divulged what he could about the events of his own stressful and emotional Winter Break.

To be honest, he wasn't sure what to expect, but the mention of her parents wasn't it. She very rarely ever talked about them before, and he was certain he didn't even know their names. He _also_ wouldn't admit to being all that comfortable with hearing about her physical relationship with Harry, but she definitely mentioned it for a reason. It was something weighing on her mind, and it seemed to mean something very significant, given the state of their relationship.

"Do you think that could be part of the reason you ran from him?" he asked.

"What?"

"That your physical, umm, intimacy was starting to match your emotional one?"

Hermione stared at him as if he sprouted a second head. "That's a very insightful question, Jack."

"Well, don't sound so surprised," he grumbled, though he was wearing a smile. "I'm a little more self-aware, you know? I've been spending some time with - " he stopped suddenly, flushing at what he was about to reveal. _Nobody_ was ready for what any of that would mean, least of all him. "With, uh, people who aren't just Ron," he said, saving himself. "You pick up a few things."

Hermione eyed him critically. "Broadening your horizons, huh?"

"Something like that, yes."

She fiddled with the hem of her school skirt, visibly thinking. "It might be part of it," she finally admitted. "The further we get in _that_ department; the more serious the entire thing gets. I love him. I'm _in love_ with him, but I am so _terrified_ of him and it and the way he makes me feel, because what do I do when it's all gone? What happens to me when it's all taken away?"

"What makes you think that's going to happen?"

"It already has before, Jack," she pointed out.

He hung his head in shame, remembering the role he may or may not have played in breaking them up the previous year. "It's different now," he tried to protest.

"It is," she agreed with a nod. "It's worse now, because the outside forces acting against us are more sinister. I had him, right there in my arms, with the words on the tip of my tongue, and then he was just _gone_. I don't - I don't know how I'm supposed to live with the idea that he could be taken from me at any moment."

For the most part, Jack could understand that.

To some extent, at least.

The thing was that Jack was a Potter, which really meant he was impulsive, the kind of boy to jump in with both feet and no plan at all. He and Harry were somewhat similar that way, though Harry tended to be a bit more careful, which was probably his mother's influence.

Hermione, well, she was different to them both. She was _too_ cautious, _extra_ careful, suitably wary and extremely guarded, and he imagined life made her that way.

Still, he had to ask, "Answer me this, Hermione: is _that_ anxiety you were feeling when you were with him better than what you're feeling now, without him?"

And, really, her lack of response was answer enough for both of them.

She shifted uncomfortably, and then tried to change the subject to take the focus off herself.

Classic deflection.

"Have you talked to Harry about the Prophecy?" Hermione asked. "Or, umm, Neville?"

Jack shook his head no. "There's actually something else I need to discuss with Harry first, which is a little more pressing."

"What is it?"

Jack shot her a guilty look. "Just know that he's probably not going to like it," he said. "In fact, _you're_ probably not going to like it, either."

* * *

"So," Jack started, leaning back on the couch in the Common Room, his intention to look as relaxed as possible when embarking on this potentially volatile conversation. "I have to talk to you about something."

Harry, for his part, was convinced this conversation was going to have something to do with Hermione, given the way she and Jack seemed to be spending more and more time together since they returned from Break. If he and Hermione were any other people, Harry would probably be worried, but he wasn't. Still, he wouldn't go so far as to say he liked the idea of it.

He wanted his girlfriend back. He wanted her to be talking to _him_ , and not Jack.

"I'm not going to like it, am I?"

"Probably not," Jack said, smiling sheepishly. "Definitely not, actually."

Heaving a sigh, Harry decided to give Jack the benefit of the doubt. "What is it?"

"Don't hex me or anything, but - " he paused. "Look, I'm all for Dean being our replacement Chaser but, well, he - "

"He sucks at it, doesn't he?"

Jack let out an unexpected laugh. "I thought it was just me who noticed."

Harry shook his head, shifting in his seat. "He's better suited for Keeper or Beater," he said. "He's just not... agile enough, I guess, and, if we want to win next weekend, then we're going to have to find someone else." He waited a beat. "Which is why you're here, isn't it?"

Jack cleared his throat. "Well, I mean, I was thinking..." he trailed off. "Look, I know you two don't get on, and I know we did something disgusting and horrible, and I know there's a Protection Order in place, but - " he paused.

Harry already figured out what Jack was alluding to, from the first sentence he said. "Jack," he said through gritted teeth.

"I want to win," Jack said, removing all pretences. " _Badly_. I mean, we _could_ probably win with Dean, but I don't want to leave anything to chance. So, just, think about it, okay? She's good. Really good, and we could really win. We could. We could win, Harry, for Katie."

" _Don't_ ," he said coldly. "Don't drag Katie into this, and don't you dare try to guilt me into letting the girl who _drugged_ me onto _my_ Quidditch team."

Jack dropped his gaze, sufficiently chastised.

Harry sighed, not wanting to be completely dismissive. "Look, I'll think about it, okay," he finally said.

Jack smiled at him. "Great. Okay. You do that." He nodded several times, and then forced himself to stop when it started to get weird. "I'll, uh - I'm just going to go." He gently pat Harry's forearm, before he stood and left his younger brother to _think about it_.

If he was being honest, Harry was irritated with Jack for even deigning to mention the idea to him. He was sure he made himself perfectly clear at the beginning of the year that he would _not_ play on the same team as Ginny Weasley.

Why would the absence of Katie Bell suddenly change that?

He supposed he, too, wanted to win, but did he want victory _that badly_? It wasn't as if Ginny would be playing just any position, either. She would be a Chaser. Not a Beater or a Keeper, but a Chaser. _With him_.

Harry didn't think he could handle it.

But.

"Okay."

Jack looked up from his breakfast the next morning to find Harry standing over him, looking pensive. "Okay?"

Harry carefully slid onto the bench at the Gryffindor table, keeping his body turned towards Jack. "She can be on the team," he said carefully; "on one condition."

"Anything," Jack was quick to say, abandoning his scrambled eggs in favour of... negotiations.

Harry shook his head, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You're going to wish you didn't say that."

"Why?" Jack asked, suddenly wary. "What is it?"

Harry just shook his head again as he stood and turned away. "I'll see you at practice," he said over his shoulder, before he walked away, feeling oddly lighter than he had since they returned to the Castle.

Maybe, if he could focus on something else entirely, he could somehow forget that _he_ was actually the Boy-Who-Lived _and_ that his girlfriend decided on a _break_.

Was that even what this was?

Because, it felt permanent, whatever it was.

* * *

It remained to be said that Harry Potter's start to the year of 1997 wasn't going exactly to plan.

Really, Harry was ready to give up on planning for anything at all. Everything about his life - bar his studies and fitness regimen - just felt so disjoint and out-of-sorts. He wasn't on proper speaking terms with two of the most important women in his life, he had decisions to make about both Jack and Sirius, _and_ he still hadn't yet decided if he was going to let Neville and Luna into the truth about who was the real Boy-Who-Lived.

Sirius warned him not to tell _anyone_ , and Harry reasoned it was probably the smarter thing to do at this stage. Information like that was dangerous, and the less people who knew; the better. Neville and Luna were bound to get hurt in the War that was sure to come because of their connection to him, and Harry was willing to do all he could to protect them, even though he already knew they would follow him anywhere. He didn't know what he did to deserve such love and loyalty from them, but he was starting to feel unworthy of it with all the lies he seemed to be telling.

It was one of the reasons he started opting to spend more and more time alone, dedicating hours to learning and perfecting spells and _using_ them. He imagined his friends thought he was brooding over his situation with Hermione - which was partly true, he supposed - but it was more than that. He wondered if Luna heard from his mother about _their_ situation or something, because Luna decidedly didn't bring up Lily in any conversation.

She did, however, have no qualms with talking about Hermione.

"I talked to her yesterday."

Harry couldn't bring himself to look at Luna, choosing rather to keep his focus on the parchment in front of him as the two of them occupied their table in the library. He was working on an essay for Potions that was coming to him far too easily and quickly, and he knew he was going to have to find something else with which to distract himself from thinking thoughts he really didn't want to be when he was done.

Perhaps Dean would be up for some Quidditch practice later.

"She was with Jack," Luna continued through Harry's silence. "I think he's actually helping her with all of this."

"All of what?"

" _You_."

Harry sucked in a sharp breath. He was still _torn_ , really, because, as much as he wanted to be with Hermione, he didn't want to straddle her to the boy who was fated to kill the darkest wizard alive, or die trying.

"She looks... better," Luna said, answering his unasked questions. "I think she's getting more sleep, now."

Harry just nodded, unsure what to say.

"She's not as talkative as she usually is, and I've been hesitant to ask about what her time was like with her parents, because it doesn't seem like something she's going to be talking about any time soon." She looked away for a moment. "Not with me, at least."

While Harry was thankful for Luna's desire to keep him up to speed on all things Hermione, the fact that he couldn't learn all these things on his own was equal parts frustrating and heartbreaking. He almost wanted to go back in time to New Year's Day, maybe, and just make sure she stayed in bed with him. He would have held onto her with all his might, never letting go.

Never letting them feel _this_.

"Jack also mentioned that he brought up the idea of possibly allowing Ginny onto the team, and you didn't seem to take it all that well, despite the fact you agreed to it," Luna said, switching the topic to offer Harry a bit of a reprieve... which, ultimately, didn't work.

Harry sighed heavily, deflating as yet another thing not working in his favour was brought to his attention. "I don't know what I'm supposed to say in this situation," he said. "Did Jack tell you that because - "

She cut him off, smiling gently. "Because he's worried about you, Harry." She giggled at his incredulous look. "I know; it surprised me too."

Harry just about managed to smile back at her.

"I do think he's being sincere, though," she said knowingly. "The Jack that's shown up this term feels like the real one, almost; the one not under James' influence, now that the divorce has finally gone through."

Harry could admit to the truth of that, at least, but he was distinctly uncomfortable with Luna showing that much insight into his half-brother. As far as Harry was concerned, the two of them didn't interact.

Right?

At the mention of the divorce, Harry couldn't stop himself from thinking of his mother. He could only imagine what she was feeling, or even what Marlene Potter was feeling, when it came to all of this. James didn't make it easy on the woman, and the fact that she was also a Pureblood is one of the only things that granted her the separation in the first place.

At least, that was what he heard, but he had problems of his own.

"Are you about to ask me to give Jack another chance?" Harry asked, even though he couldn't be certain when or what caused the initial _break_ in their growing relationship. It just seemed like such a long time ago, and so much seemed to have happened in the last few weeks.

"I would never ask something like that of you, Harry," she said, her tone very serious. "I just wanted to check in to see how you're really feeling about having to play on the same team as Ginny."

He pressed his lips together, visibly thinking. "I think it's going to be all right," he eventually said, knowing they had their first scheduled practice at the end of the week. He would need to speak to Jack before then. "Well, my dear Luna, if I get my way, I won't _actually_ be playing with her."

Luna frowned, clearly not following. "I don't know what that means."

He smiled then, a genuine, happy thing that she hadn't seen since they returned to the Castle.

Frankly, from the sight of it, she couldn't bring herself to care about what put it there.

* * *

"Are you kidding me right now?"

Despite his perpetual somber mood, Harry couldn't stop himself from grinning. Jack looked like he was about to burst an aneurysm, the vein in his forehead threatening to pop from his obvious anger and disbelief.

"Seriously?"

Harry's body started to shake from the force of his suppressed laughter.

" _You_ want to play Seeker?" Jack asked, his voice slightly higher in pitch. "What am I supposed to play?"

"Chaser," Harry immediately answered, rolling his eyes. "I thought that much was obvious."

Jack growled. "I can't play Chaser," he argued. "I don't know _how_."

"I'll teach you," Harry said with a slight shrug. "It's really easy. I mean, you're athletic enough to pull it off, and you already know all the plays. You can do it. I believe in you."

Jack just glared at him, and Harry's laughter bubbled to the surface again. "Do you _want_ us to lose?" Jack accused.

Harry couldn't get himself to stop laughing. "Oh, Jack, don't be so dramatic," he said. "We're not going to lose. You'll see."

Jack shook his head. "I don't get it," he said; "what are you trying to do?"

"I'm _trying_ not to have to play alongside Ginny," he said soft enough for only Jack to hear him, his laughter falling away and a slight shudder running along his spine. "It's just for this game, you said. We can wipe the floor with Hufflepuff, regardless of the positions you or I play. As long as we _both_ play, and I promise you that I won't if I have to play alongside her."

"But - "

"It isn't even really about _me_ ," Harry said. "I don't want Granger to have to worry about this, okay? She's already working through enough stuff also to have to deal with the potential of Ginny getting near me again, for whatever reason."

Jack immediately gave in at the mention of Hermione - exactly the way Harry knew he would. Despite the state of all their various relationships at the moment, Jack would always care about her. Harry was sure a part of the boy would always love her in some way, and he chose to view that as a good thing. If there was another person out there who was willing to look out for her, then his job of protecting her was made slightly easier.

"Okay," Jack finally said; "but you're going to have to be the one to tell the lot of them."

"Fine," Harry agreed, grumbling under his breath, already started preparing what he was going to say to the team.

Which ended up being unnecessary, because the whole of Gryffindor already knew of the planned Potter switch by the morning, one of the Second-Years having overheard Jack and Hermione discussing it in the Common Room.

Opinion on the matter was split, with some not worried at all and a lot of others convinced they were effectively throwing the game.

Hufflepuff even started to get a little too cocky.

The Gryffindor team, however, wasn't worried. Harry was proving to be right. With Jack's natural athleticism, he picked up the nuances of the position of Chaser very quickly, and he learned right alongside Ginny as Harry and Demelza took them through the paces to become decent Chasers in the little time they had until the upcoming match on the second Saturday of February.

Even Hermione had something to say to Harry about it, which were words the boy replayed over and over in his head.

 _I sincerely hope you intend to outfly Jack in all the best ways._

 _As if that was ever in doubt, Granger._

 _Good luck, anyway, Harry._

It was nothing and everything, and Harry knew it probably wasn't healthy to read too much into it, but he couldn't help it.

He missed her.

He missed being able to look at her, to talk to her, to touch her, to hold her and kiss her, and just _be with her_.

As dramatic as it probably sounded, he couldn't get himself warm. With all his coats and thermal vests and scarves and woollen hats; he constantly felt cold, and he was convinced it was because he didn't have Hermione with him.

Which, okay, was _also_ a little pathetic.

But no less true.

* * *

Owing to the switched positions, Harry had very little interaction with Ginny. Besides instructing her and Jack on potential plays, they didn't _have_ to talk to each other, which was perfectly fine with Harry. He could probably go his entire life without having to have another conversation with her, given the severity of the last one they shared.

There were tears and shouted words and threats and desperate begging.

Harry was convinced he would have dropped to his knees to make sure the girl said nothing about what _really_ happened in the Department of Mysteries.

So, if he could spend as little time in Ginny Weasley's presence as possible, he would do it. The good thing was she didn't try to talk to him either. If she was just adhering to the Protection Order, or if it was something else entirely, he didn't know.

And, frankly, he didn't care.

* * *

As January came to an end and progressed into February, the weather didn't let up at all. In fact, it probably got colder, and Harry grew more irritable with his inability to _get warm_. He even braved mentioning his theory to Luna, and she actually took him seriously. She always would, he realised.

"We could probably test it," she said, immediately reaching for her Mosstrooper notebook to write her observations.

"How?"

She looked at him, already sporting her thinking-face. "Clothing, mainly," she said, as if she was talking to herself. "Maybe you're just wearing the wrong things. Location, also. Neville and I could both cast Warming Charms on you and see what results those give us. We can make notes on all of that now, and then compare them to how you feel next month."

He looked puzzled by that. "Why next month?"

"Well, working on the assumption you and Hermione get back together before the end of this month, it's the only time we'll be able to test your theory."

He held up a hand to stop her, shaking his head at her presumption. "Wait. What makes you think Granger and I are getting back together by the end of this month? Or, at all?"

"Because she's almost ready."

He just stared at her, daring to hope. Luna very rarely said things for the sake of saying them. "How - how do you know?" he found himself asking.

She offered him a small, knowing smile. "Believe me, Harry, I _know_."

And, really, that was good enough for him.

* * *

"All right, listen up," Jack yelled, getting the attention of the team. "This is it, boys and girls. Hufflepuff have been talking smack about us for weeks, now, and we're going to go out there and show them just where to stick it!"

Harry raised his eyebrows, even as the rest of them frowned. "Jack," he said pointedly; "you've really got to cut down on all that Muggle television you've been watching."

The boy flushed under the scrutiny. "Whatever," he grumbled. "You get what I'm trying to say."

"We do," Demelza confirmed. "We have to beat them to shut them up."

Harry raised his hand, wearing the most innocent expression he could muster. "Motion to make Robins in charge of all pre-game speeches?"

Jack laughed. " _Denied_ , you idiot."

Harry just grinned a little lopsidedly, and the Co-Captains' ease managed to bleed out some of the tension in the air. While the team was substantially confident, they _were_ trying out a new combination of players, _and_ adding a new one to the mix.

Anything could happen.

"Okay, two minutes," Jack said, quickly falling into line and trying to centre himself for the upcoming... battle. Normally, before matches, Hermione might have sneaked into the tunnel to wish him luck, but things were so different now.

She wished him earlier at breakfast.

In fact, she wished them all.

Harry took his own moment to steady his breathing. Every match was important and, like Jack, he _really_ wanted to win, if only to shove it in the Hufflepuff's team's faces.

Wow, okay, he _also_ needed to ease up on the Muggle television.

"Harry?"

He turned at the voice, his heart rate rising without his consent. He didn't acknowledge the person who spoke verbally, but he did manage to look at Ginny's face, not sure what he was expecting.

"Is it normal to be nervous?" she asked.

Harry pressed his lips together, and then nodded. "I was before my first one," he said. "It would have helped to have had a warm-up game for you, but it is what it is."

"It seems a lot of things are," she mumbled, more to herself, looking away from him.

"What does that mean?"

She waited a beat before she met his gaze, her voice quiet when she eventually spoke. "Do you really think there's one person on this entire planet that's right for you?" she asked, standing closer to him than they both knew she was allowed.

"I do," he answered, surprising them both by actually engaging in her unexpected question.

"And you're willing to spend your life looking for her?"

He shook his head. "No."

She frowned, clearly confused by his response.

"I don't have to spend a single second more looking," he admitted, stepping back into line. "I've already found her, and her name is Hermione Granger." Despite everything going on inside of him and between them; that truth would always remain. As much as he wanted to protect her from himself; she was forever imprinted on his heart; she was practically swimming inside his veins.

Ginny just shook her head, slightly in awe at how _sure_ he sounded. "She'll come back, you know," she said gently, dropping her gaze.

He sighed. "I'm not so sure about that."

Ginny bit her bottom lip in thought. "Is it - is it because of... _you know_?"

Harry's eyes snapped towards her, suddenly blazing. "Ginny," he hissed. "I can't be sure, but don't they teach the intricacies of an Unbreakable Vow in second year?"

Ginny raised her palms in innocence. "I didn't actually _say_ anything," she defended. "I'm just saying that it would make sense for her to pull away if _you_ said something."

He huffed in irritation. "Well, I didn't tell her," he said flatly. "This is something else entirely."

Whatever history the two of them had, she hated to see him look so forlorn, but she was unsure what she could say or do to help. Experience taught her she was bound to make things worse, and it would be best to leave things be.

But, as with most things, it was easier said than done.

* * *

While the switch in the Potter positions was unorthodox, nobody could fault the sheer brilliance of it when Gryffindor ended up demolishing Hufflepuff 220-60. It was almost too easy, with Harry hovering high above the pitch and barking out plays as he saw them. It was useful for when he _did_ return to his position, getting to witness all their actual plans come alive.

Jack was half-decent, as well, and, when Harry caught sight of the Snitch, he took off like a lightning bolt.

Hah.

It was only his initial head start on the Hufflepuff Seeker, Louise Enbridge, that allowed him to get to the Snitch first, because the Hufflepuff Seeker was _good_. He heard rumours about her intention to continue professionally, and he imagined it was a good career move on her part. She was definitely talented enough to be successful.

Still, Harry managed to get to the Snitch first, with some extra help from his superior broom and general carelessness. It was one of the reasons his mother explained to him that it was actually proven that men are better drivers than women. Women are too cautious, and men tend to just _go for it_ , as it were. _That_ topic of conversation sparked debate over the dinner table, with Sirius and Hermione chiming in with their own facts and opinions, and Harry was content just to sit back and enjoy his family.

Now, everything was just _wrong_.

He couldn't imagine them having another night like that, with the way things currently were. He was just at a loss as to what to do to make it better. How did he just stop being angry, and how did he convince Hermione that he loved her beyond anything and everything else?

How?

The second the game ended with Harry's fingers closed around the Snitch, the stadium erupted in applause. As if he could tell _what kind_ of applause it was; nothing about it sounded surprised because, really, as if it were ever in doubt.

Harry didn't immediately fly down to the grass. Instead, he lingered a while, hovering in the air after Madam Hooch retrieved the Snitch from him. He _wanted_ to feel elated and overjoyed with his accomplishment, but he just couldn't bring himself to. Everything else was weighing too heavily on him, and he just couldn't shake the thought that he _missed his mother_.

He felt a bit childish when it crossed his mind, but he wasn't going to take it back.

He missed his mother.

And, it seemed, she missed him, too, provided his eyes weren't actually deceiving him. _That_ shock of red hair could belong to only one person, and it sure as hell wasn't Ginny.

Harry almost forgot he was still supposed to be angry with her when he shot off without another thought, spiraling downwards, only _one_ witch on his mind.


End file.
